UNP    £RSll  i   01 

NORTH  CAROySNA, 

»■— - — ■  'u  (    , . 

School   o  f    Library 
Science 


-T^-y^V^ 


u4fn^rr-i 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


http://www.archive.org/details/storiestoldtorolOOabbo 


-  m 


STORIES 


ROLLO'S    COUSIN    LUCY, 


WHEN  SHE  WAS  A  LITTLE   GIRL. 


f    AUTHOR  OF  THE  ROLLO  BOOKS. 


A   NEW  EDITION, 
REVISED    BY   THE    AUTHOR. 


NEW  YORK: 
CLARK,    AUSTIN   &    SMITH, 

3    PARK   ROW   AND    3    ANX-STREET. 
1854. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1841, 

Ey  t.  h.  carter, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


NOTICE 


I 


The  simple  delineations  of  the  ordinary 
incidents  and  feelings  which  characterize 
childhood,  that  are  contained  in  the  Rollo 
Books,  having  been  found  to  interest,  and, 
as  the  author  hopes,  in  some  degree  to 
benefit  the  young  readers  for  whom  they 
were  designed,  —  the  plan  is  herein  ex- 
tended to  children  of  the  other  sex.  The 
two  first  volumes  of  the  series  are  Lucy's 
Conversations  and  Lucy's  Stories. 
Lucy  wras  Rollo's  cousin ;  and  the  author 

^  hopes  that  the  history  of  her  life  and  ad- 
ventures may  be  entertaining  and  useful 
to  the  sisters  of  the  boys  who  have  hon- 
ored the  Rollo  Books  with  their  approval. 

<v*  l# 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I.                         rage 
An  Adventure, 9 

CHAPTER  II. 
Joanna's  Room, 22 

CHAPTER  III. 
Story  of  the  Fog  on  the  Mountains, 36 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Mart  Jay,.. 49 

CHAPTER  V. 
Story  of  the  Old  Polander, 63 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Morocco  Book, 72 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Story  of  Rocksy, 84 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII.  Page. 

Royal's  Story, 94 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Ths  Morocco  Book  again — The  Stormy  Even 

ING, 116 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  Dialogue  —  The  Quagmire, 125 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Sabbath  Day  —  Victor's  Meeting, 137 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Rachel, 145 

CHAPTER  XIII, 

Harielle's  Little  Book  —  The  Story  of  Alice; 
or,  Self-Possession, 154 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
Playing  College, 168 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Stranger's  Story, 17Si 


LUCY'S    STORIES 


CHAPTER    I 

AN   ADVENTURE. 


When  Rollo's  cousin  Lucy  was  a  very  little 
girl,  she  slept  in  a  trundle-bed.  She  awoke  one 
morning,  and  heard  a  bird  singing  out  in  the  yard. 
The  window  was  open.  The  tops  of  the  trees 
were  brightened  by  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun. 

"It  is  morning,"  said  Lucy  to  herself,  "I 
truly  believe." 

Then  Lucy  tried  to  think  whether  she  had 
been  asleep  or  not ;  but  she  could  not  tell.  She 
thought  she  had  not.  She  remembered  that,  the 
day  before,  she  had  been  to  take  a  walk  with  Miss 
Anne,  and  that  they  had  got  caught  out  in  the 
rain,  and  had  gone  under  a  bridge  for  shelter  until 
the  shower  was  over. 

Just  then  she  heard  a  little  noise  like  the  rus- 


10  LUCY'S    STORIES. 

tling  of  the  leaves  of  a  book.  It  seemed  .to  come 
from  the  window  where  Miss  Anne  used  to  sit. 
Lucy  could  not  see,  because  the  great  bed  was  in 
the  way.     She  thought  it  was  Miss  Anne  reading. 

"  Miss  Anne,"  said  she. 

"  Ah,  are  you  awake,  Lucy  ?  "  said  Miss  Anne. 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  to  get  up." 

Miss  Anne  told  Lucy  that  she  might  get  up, 
and  she  did. 

When  she  was  dressed,  Miss  Anne  asked  her 
how  she  felt  after  her  adventure  the  day  before, 

"  Adventure  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "our  adventure  under 
the  bridge." 

"  O,  pretty  well,"  said  Lucy.  "  Was  that  an 
adventure  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Anne ;  "  when  we  are  out 
walking,  or  are  travelling,  and  anything  remark- 
able happens  to  us,  we  call  it  an  adventure. 
When  I  was  a  child,  I  had  an  adventure  some- 
what similar  to  that." 

"  What  was  it  ? "  said  Lucy. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  have  time  to  tell  you 
before  the  bell  will  ring.     However,  I  will  begin. 

"  I  was  quite  a  little  girl " 

"  Not  so  big  as  I  ? "  interrupted  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "  just  about  as  big  as 


AH    ADVENTURE.  11 

you.  My  father  was  going  to  take  a  journey,  and 
he  said  that  I  might  go  too.  I  don't  remember 
much  about  the  first  day,  though  we  had  a  very 
pleasant  ride.  The  second  day  we  got  to  the 
mountains.  I  liked  riding  among  the  mountains, 
for  I  could  put  my  head  out  of  the  carriage  win- 
dow, and  see  the  precipices  towering  away  above 
my  head." 

"  D'd  you  travel  in  a  carriage  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  lr  ;s,"  replied  Miss  Anne,  "  we  were  in  a 
carriage.  My  father  and  mother  sat  upon  the 
back  {.eat,  and  I  upon  the  front.  There  was  a 
great  trunk  strapped  on  behind.  I  remember,  too, 
that  there  was  a  pocket  in  the  inside  of  the  car- 
riage, under  the  window,  where  I  kept  my  picture- 
book.     There  was  another,  bigger  book  there,  too. 

"  We  rode  along  that  day  in  a  very  wild,  soli- 
tary place,  where  there  were  no  houses.  There 
was  a  foaming  river  on  one  side  of  the  road,  and 
rocks  and  mountains  upon  the  other.  At  last  we 
turned  away  from  the  river,  and  went  along  a  road 
where  there  was  nothing  but  woods,  and  rocks, 
and  mountains  all  around.  I  remember  that  I 
rode  almost  all  the  way  kneeling  up  on  the  cush- 
ion of  the  front  seat,  looking  out. 

"  I  asked  my  father  if  he  expected  to  find  any 
tavern  on  such  a  road  as  that,  and  he  said  he  did 


12  lucy's  stories. 

not ;  I  then  asked  him  what  we  were  going  to  do 
for  dinner,  and  he  said  I  should  see. 

"  By  and  by,  when  we  were  going  up  a  long 
hill,  and  had  got  nearly  to  the  top  of  it,  my  father 
told  Jotham  that  he  might  begin  to  look  out  a 
place." 

"  Who  was  Jotham  ?  "  asked  Lucy. 

"  Why,  Jotham  was  our  man.  He  was  driving 
us,"  answered  Miss  Anne. 

"After  about  half  an  hour,  Jotham  stopped 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  asked  my  father  if 
that  place  would  do  ;  and  we  all  looked  out  of  the 
window  to  see. 

"  We  found  that  there  was  a  brook  running  across 
the  road,  under  a  small  bridge ;  it  came  tumbling 
down  among  rocks  and  precipices  on  one  side, 
and,  after  crossing  the  road,  it  went  down  through 
a  kind  of  a  ravine  upon  the  other.  A  ravine,  you 
must  understand,  is  a  kind  of  Jeep,  dark,  and  nar- 
row valley.  The  ravine,  and  the  sides  of  the  hills 
all  around,  were  covered  with  forests.  Father 
looked  at  the  place  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  he 
said  that  Jotham  might  drive  on.  until  he  came  to 
the  next  stream. 

"  I  asked  him  why  this  place  would  not  do ; 
and  he  said  that  the  trees  and  bushes  were  too 
thick      So  we  went  on  down  a  long  descent,  un- 


AN    ADVENTURE.  13 

til,  at  iast,  after  we  had  gone  about  half  a  mile, 
Jotham  stopped  again.  My  father  looked  out  of 
the  window  a  minute,  and  then  told  Jotham  that 
we  would  get  out.  So  Jotham  opened  the  car- 
riage door,  and  we  all  got  out. 

"  We  found  that  there  was  a  brook  here  too, 
but  it  was  running  more  smoothly.  There  was  a 
sort  of  cart  path,  which  turned  off  from  the  road, 
on  the  lower  side,  and  led  into  the  woods,  along 
the  bank  of  the  brook.  My  father  asked  Jotham 
if  he  thought  he  could  drive  in  there ;  and  Jotham 
said  he  could.  Then  my  father  asked  him  if  he 
thought  he  could  find  a  place  to  turn,  if  he  drove 
in ;  and  Jotham  said  he  could  turn  anywhere. 
So  we  all  walked  in,  and  Jotham  came  in  after- 
wards, driving  the  carriage. 

"  Presently  we  came  to  a  beautiful  place.  It 
was  a  small,  smooth  piece  of  ground,  about  as  large 
as  this  room,  with  the  cart  path  upon  one  side,  and 
a  turn  of  the  brook  sweeping  around  it  upon  the 
other.  The  brook  was  very  beautiful.  The  wa- 
ter flowed  along  quietly  among  round  stones,  which 
were  covered  above  the  water  with  soft,  green  moss. 
The  water  was  pretty  deep  in  some  places ;  but  it 
was  very  clear,  so  that  I  could  see  the  sand  and 
pebbles  upon  the  bottom ;  and  in  one  place  I  saw 
three  great  fishes ;  one  was  as  long  as  my  finger. 
2 


14  lucy's  stories. 

"  We  all  rambled  about  a  few  minutes,  while 
Jotliam  unharnessed  the  horses,  and  gave  them 
some  oats." 

"  O  Miss  Anne !  "  interrupted  Lucy,  "  I  don't 
believe  that  this  is  a  true  story  that  you  are  telling 
me ;  for  he  could  not  get  any  oats  for  his  horses 
in  such  a  place  as  that." 

"  Yes,  he  brought  the  oats  with  him  in  a  bag, 
under  his  seat.  He  knew  that  we  were  going  to 
dine  in  camp  that  day,  though  I  didn't ;  and  so 
he  made  preparation.  Well,  after  he  had  taken 
care  of  the  horses,  he  took  a  hatchet  out  from 
under  his  seat,  and  began  to  cut  some  short  poles 
to  make  some  seats  with." 

"  I  don't  see  how  he  could  make  seats  of 
poles,"  said  Lucy. 

"  I  have  forgotten  exactly  how  he  did  it ;  but 
somehow  or  other  he  laid  them  along  close  to- 
gether, and  kept  the  ends  up  by  some  large 
stones ;  and  then  he  put  the  cushions  of  the  car- 
riage over  them,  so  as  to  make  a  very  2;ood 
seat.  Then  he  went  and  got  a  great,  heavy  bas- 
ket from  the  front  of  the  carriage.  It  had  our 
dinner  in  it. 

"  So  we  sat  upon  our  seats  and  ate  our  dinner. 
We  had  bread  and  butter,  and  cheese  and  cakes, 
and  a  little  apple-pie.     There  was  a  jug  of  milk, 


AN    ADVENTURE.  15 

too,  for  us  to  drink.  We  staid  there  as  much  as 
an  hour ;  and  I  had  a  fine  time,  after  dinner,  play- 
ing about  on  the  banks  of  the  brook.  My  moth- 
er rambled  around,  gathering  flowers ;  and  as  for 
my  father,  he  went  and  got  into  the  carriage,  and 
took  a  nap." 

Lucy  thought  that  a  carriage  without  any 
horses,  was  a  singular  place  for  a  nap ;  but  she 
did  not  interrupt  Miss  Anne  to  say  anything 
about  it. 

"After  a  time,"  continued  Miss  Anne,  "my 
father  came  to  the  seats  again,  where  my  mother 
and  I  were  arranging  our  flowers.  He  told  us 
that  Jotham  was  putting  the  horses  to  the  car- 
riage, and  that  it  was  time  for  us  to  get  ready  to 
go.  So  we  got  into  the  carriage  presently,  and 
Jotham  drove  us  out  into  the  main  road,  and  then 
we  trotted  along  on  our  way." 

"  And  was  that  the  adventure  which  you 
had?"  asked  Lucy. 

"  That  was  a  kind  of  an  adventure,"  said  Miss 
Anne,  "  but  not  the  one  I  meant.  The  adven- 
ture which  I  meant  particularly,  is  yet  to  come. 
It  happened  that  night,  about  sundown.  You 
understand  it  was  a  beautiful  summer's  day  ;  and 
it  was  so  far  to  the  place  where  we  had  to  stop, 
that  we  did  not  expect  to  get  there  until  the  even- 


16 


ing.  But  about  half  an  hour  before  sundown,  we 
began  to  hear  some  thunder. 

"  I  kneeled  up,  upon  the  cushion,  and  looked 
out  to  see  if  I  could  see  the  cloud.  There  was  a 
great  valley  spread  out  before  me,  and  a  range  of 
mountains  beyond  it.  Above  the  mountains  the 
clouds  began  to  be  piled  up  higher  and  higher. 
They  were  white  and  rounded  above,  and  dark 
below.  Presently  I  saw  a  faint  flash  of  lightning. 
My  father  asked  Jotham  how  much  farther  we 
had  got  to  go,  and  he  said  about  five  miles ;  and 
my  father  told  him  to  drive  as  fast  as  he  could. 

"  The  cloud  rose  higher  and  higher,  and  began 
to  look  very  black  indeed.  The  mountains  under 
it,  and  the  great  valley,  looked  dark  and  gloomy. 
Presently  we  went  down  a  hill  into  a  narrow 
place,  with  rocks  and  precipices  on  each  side, 
where  we  could  not  see  the  clouds  any  more,  but 
could  only  hear  the  thunder  now  and  then. 
Pretty  soon,  father  put  the  curtains  down,  and 
shut  the  windows,  and  then  it  was  quite  dark 
inside  the  coach,  and  the  flashes  of  lightning 
grew  brighter. 

"Next  it  began  to  rain.  Some  great  drops 
struck  upon  the  window,  and  a  great  gust  of  wind 
blew  furiously  over  the  tops  of  the  trees.  The 
rain  came  faster  and  faster,  and  the  water  began 


AN    ADVENTURE.  17 

to  pour  down  in  torrents  all  around  us.  I  kneeled 
up,  and  looked  out  at  the  front  window  to  see 
what  Jotham  was  doing.  He  had  an  umbrella 
over  his  head,  and  a  great  shaggy  coat  on ;  and 
just  at  that  instant  there  came  such  a  bright  flash 
of  lightning  as  to  dazzle  my  eyes  so  that  I  could 
hardly  see,  and  immediately  afterwards,  a  most 
terrible  burst  of  loud,  rattling  sound,  just  over  our 
heads,  which  frightened  me  very  much  ;  for  I 
thought  that  we  were  struck  with  lightning.  But 
it  did  not  hurt  us ;  for  the  noise,  after  it  had  rattled 
all  over  the  sky,  rolled  and  rumbled  off,  away 
beyond  the  mountains.  But  before  it  was  gone, 
we  heard  another  great  crash  just  before  us  ;  and 
instantly  Jotham  stopped  the  horses.  My  father 
called  out  to  him  to  know  what  was  the  matter ; 
and  he  said  that  a  tree  had  fallen  directly  across 
the  road. 

"  My  father  looked  out  at  the  front  window,  as 
well  as  he  could,  to  see  the  tree ;  and  T  tried  to 
look  too,  but  it  was  so  dark  that  I  could  not  see 
it  very  well.  Jotham  moved  his  horses  on  till 
they  came  up  to  it ;  and  my  father  asked  him  how 
large  a  tree  it  was.     He  said  it  was  very  large. 

""*  What  shall  we  do  ? '  said  my  father. 

" 'It  lies  up  too  high  for  us  to  get  the  carriage 
over  it/  said  Jotham. 
2* 


18  lucy's  stories. 

" '  Could  we,  both  of  us,  move  it  with  hand- 
spikes/ said  my  father,  'so  as  to  get  by?' 

" '  No,  sir/  said  Jotham  ;  l  ten  men  could  not 
move  it.  I  could  hack  it  off  in  time  near  the 
3tump  with  my  hatchet ;  but  I  think  it  probable 
that  the  quickest  way  would  be  for  me  to  go  on 
with  one  of  the  horses  and  get  an  axe.' 

" '  How  far  is  it  ? '  said  my  father. 

"  Jotham  said  that  he  thought  it  must  be  about 
two  miles  and  a  half.  My  father  then  asked  him 
if  it  would  not  be  possible  in  any  way  to  go  out 
of  the  road,  and  get  the  carriage  through  the  trees, 
and  so  get  by ;  but  Jotham  said  it  was  very  steep 
and  rocky  on  both  sides,  and  he  thought  it  would 
not  be  possible  to  get  round. 

"  So  it  was  finally  concluded  that  he  should  go 
for  an  axe.  He  accordingly  drove  the  horses  up 
very  close  to  the  tree,  and  fastened  one  of  them  to 
a  large  branch.  Then  he  took  the  other  out  of 
his  harness,  and  mounted  him.  He  tried  to  make 
him  jump  over  the  tree ;  but  he  would  not,  it  was 
so  high. 

"  He  then  drove  him  out  of  the  road  into  the 
bushes,  though  it  was  raining  and  thundering  all 
the  time.  I  looked  out  at  the  front  windows,  and 
pretty  soon  I  saw  him  come  out  of  the  woods 
again,  beyond  the  tree,  and  ride  off  as  fast  as  he 
could  go. 


AN    ADVENTURE.  19 

"  It  di  1  not  thunder  and  lighten  so  much  after 
this,  but  it  continued  to  rain ;  and  it  began  to 
grow  pretty  dark.  My  father  put  his  ann  out  at 
the  front  window,  and  reached  one  of  the  lanterns 
of  the  carriage,  and  took  it  in.  He  had  some 
matches  in  a  little  box,  and  so  he  lighted  the  lan- 
tern, and  that  made  it  look  more  bright  and  cheer- 
ful in  the  carriage  ;  but  it  began  to  grow  very 
dark  and  dismal  without.  There  was  nothing, 
however,  that  we  could  do,  but  to  wait  patiently 
until  Jotham  came  back. 

"I  tried  to  look  at  my  picture-book  a  little 
while ;  but  I  found  that  I  did  not  care  much 
about  it,  and  so  I  put  it  back,  and  my  mother 
gave  me  a  piece  of  cake  to  eat.  When  I  had  eaten 
the  cake,  she  advised  me  to  lie  down  upon  the 
front  seat,  and  see  how  many  I  could  count  be- 
tween the  flashes  of  lightning  and  the  thunder 
that  came  after  the  flashes.  And  1  did.  I  lay 
down  and  counted  a  long  time." 

"  How  many  could  you  count  ? "  said  Lucy. 

"  O,  I  don't  remember  exactly,"  said  Miss 
Anne;  "sometimes  more  and  sometimes  less, — 
according  to  the  distance." 

"  Th«  distance,"  said  Lucy,  —  "  what  dis- 
tance ? " 

"  Why,  the  distance  of  the  thunder  from  us. 


20  lucy's  stories. 

The  lightning  and  the  thunder  are  always,  in  fact, 
at  the  same  moment  of  time ;  and  when  they  are 
near,  they  seem  so.  But  when  they  are  at  any 
distance,  although  the  flash  and  the  sound  take 
place  together,  yet  we  see  the  flash  at  once,  while 
it  takes  the  sound  some  time  to  come  to  us  ;  and 
that  gives  us  time  to  count.  And  the  farther  off 
the  thunder  is,  the  longer  time  we  have  to  count." 

H 1  mean  to  count,"  said  Lucy,  "  the  next  time 
I  hear  any  thunder." 

"  1  lay  still  a  long  time,"  continued  Miss  Anne, 
"  counting ;  at  length  there  seemed  to  be  some- 
thing strange  happening;  and  the  first  thing  1 
knew,  my  father  was  taking  me  out  of  the  car- 
riage in  his  arms.  I  opened  my  eyes,  and  saw 
that  there  was  a  bright  moon  shining  upon  a 
house.  There  were  lights  in  the  windows  of  tho 
house.  There  was  a  strange  man,  whom  I  had 
never  seen  before.  I  could  not  think  where  I 
was,  and  what  my  father  was  going  to  do  with 
me.  He  carried  me  into  the  house,  and  through 
a  long  entry,  and  into  a  little  back  sitting-room, 
where  there  was  a  fire.  My  mother  was  there, 
taking  ofF  her  bonnet.  My  father  laid  me  down 
upon  a  settee  which  had  a  cushion  upon  it,  ana 
then  went  out  again. 

"  I  asked  my  mother  what  house  that  was,  and 


AN    ADVENTURE.  21 

she  said  that  it  was  the  tavern.  I  asked  her  how 
we  got  over  that  great  tree ;  and  she  said  that 
Jotham  came  back  with  the  axe  and  cut  it  off.  I 
told  her  that  I  did  not  hear  him,  and  she  said  that 
I  had  been  asleep.  '  O  no/  I  said,  '  I  have  not 
been  asleep,  I  am  sure.'  My  mother  said  that 
then  she  did  not  know  why  I  did  not  hear  Jo- 
tham ;  for  he  came  back  with  an  axe,  and 
chopped  a  long  time  upon  the  tree,  until  he  got  it 
off,  and  that  then  my  father  had  got  out  of  the 
carriage,  and  helped  him  heave  away  the  log,  with 
handspikes,  and  so  they  had  got  by. 

"  So  I  suppose  I  must  have  been  asleep ;  but 
it  did  not  seem  to  me  that  I  had." 

"  Is  that  all  the  story  ?  "  said  Lucy,  when  she 
found  that  Miss  Anne  paused. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "  that  is  all." 


22 


CHAPTER    II. 


JOANNA'S    ROOM. 


There  was  a  little  room  near  the  kitchen,  in 
the  house  where  Lucy  lived,  which  was  called 
Joanna's  room.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  room,  and 
it  had  been  built  on  purpose  for  Joanna.  There 
was  only  a  small  entry  between  this  room  and  the 
kitchen,  and  so  it  was  very  convenient  for  her. 

Joanna  used  to  go  and  sit  in  this  room  some- 
times, in  the  afternoon,  after  she  had  done  her 
work ;  and  here  Lucy  was  very  fond  of  going  to 
see  her.  Lucy  liked  to  be  in  Joanna's  room,  for 
it  was  a  pleasant  place,  and  she  could  look  out  of 
the  window  into  the  yard  and  garden.  Under  the 
window  was  a  little  border  which  Joanna  planted, 
and  which  was  called  Joanna's  garden. 

One  afternoon,  Lucy  came  to  this  room,  and 
knocked.  The  door  was  open,  for  it  was  a 
pleasant  summer  afternoon,  and  she  could  see 
Joanna  sitting  at  a  table,  writing.  Still  she 
knocked.  Her  mother  had  told  her  that  it  was 
always  proper  to  knock  when  she  wished  to  enter 


23 


any  private  room.  And  Joanna's  room  was  a 
private  room ;  it  belonged  to  Joanna  alone. ' 

At  first,  Joanna  did  not  notice  Lucy,  as  she 
was  very  busy,  writing.  Presently,  however,  she 
looked  up  and  said,  "  Come  in." 

Lucy  walked  in.  She  had  a  little  hammer  in 
one  hand,  and  in  the  other  she  held  the  corners 
of  her  apron,  which  she  had  drawn  together  so 
as  to  keep  what  was  in  it  from  falling. 

"  Joanna,"  said  Lucy,  "  may  I  come  in  here  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Joanna,  "  provided  you  will  not 
interrupt  me." 

"  Provided  ?  "  said  Lucy ;  "  what  does  pro- 
vided  mean  ?  " 

"  Provided  ?  —  why,  If —  If  you  won't  inter- 
rupt me." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  say  If?  "  said  Lucy ; 
"  it  is  a  great  deal  easier  word." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  now,  child,"  said  Joanna. 
"  I  am  busy.     I  want  to  write." 

"  I  wish  you  would  just  tell  me  why  you  don't 
say  I/*,"  said  Lucy,  in  a  low  and  timid  voice. 

Joanna  did  not  answer ;  and  so  Lucy  dropped 
the  comers  of  her  apron,  and  let  all  the  things 
that  were  in  it  fall  down  upon  the  floor.  They 
made  a  loud,  rattling  noise.  Lucy  then  sat  down 
by  the  side  of  them 


24 


"  You  see,  Joanna,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  am  going 
to  make  a  table." 

"  Veiy  well ;  make  what  you  like,  —  only  don't 
disturb  me,"  replied  Joanna. 

Lucy  then  began  to  look  over  the  things  which 
she  had  thrown  down  upon  the  floor.  There 
were  several  little  blocks  of  wood,  some  long,  and 
some  square  and  thin.  There  was  also  a  small, 
round,  wooden  box,  with  a  cover.  Lucy  took 
off  the  cover.  The  box  was  full  of  nails ;  some 
were  small  carpet  nails  ;  and  others  were  long, 
but  pointed  at  the  end,  so  that  they  would  drive 
easily. 

Lucy  also  had  a  little  awl,  with  a  straight  but 
sharp  point.  Royal  made  it  for  her.  With  this 
she  could  make  small  holes  in  the  wood,  wher- 
ever she  wanted  to  drive  a  nail. 

"  Joanna,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  wish  you  would  just 
tell  me  how  many  legs  I  must  have  to  my  table." 

"  Four,"  said  Joanna,  —  "  only  you  must  not 
keep  talking  to  me.     I  can't  possibly  write." 

"  Why,  Joanna,  Miss  Anne  can  write,  even  if 
I  do  talk  to  her." 

a  Very  likely,"  said  Joanna ;  "  but  Miss  Anne 
and  I  are  different.  She  can  do  a  great  many 
things  that  I  cannot.  At  any  rate,  I  can't  write 
while  you  keep  talking  to  me ;  so,  if  you  want  to 


Joanna's  room.  25 

stay  here,  you  must  amuse  yourself,  and  not  speak 
to  me  at  all." 

"  Why,  suppose  it  is  some  very  particular 
word,"  said   Lucy. 

"  Why,  if  it  is  something  very  special  and  im- 
portant," said  Joanna,  "  I  suppose  you  must 
speak  ;  but  not  otherwise." 

After  this,  Lucy  was  very  still  for  five  minutes. 
She  took  a  thin,  flat  block  for  the  top  of  her 
table,  and  counted  out  four  nails  for  the  legs. 
She  then  made  holes,  with  her  awl,  in  the  corners 
of  the  block,  and  drove  the  nails  in.  She,  how- 
ever, got  one  in  the  wrong  place,  and  when  she 
tried  to  draw  it  out  with  the  little  claw  which  was 
in  the  end  of  the  handle  of  the  hammer,  she  found 
that  she  could  not.     It  was  driven  in  too  far. 

At  length  she  laid  down  the  hammer  and  the 
block,  and  said,  with  a  sigh, 

"  O  dear  me !  " 

After  waiting  a  few  minutes,  not  knowing  what 
to  do,  she  took  up  her  table  and  hammer,  and 
went  towards  Joanna,  slowly  and  timidly,  be- 
cause she  was  unwilling  to  interrupt  her  writing 
again  ;  but  she  did  not  know  what  she  should  do, 
unless  Joanna  would  draw  out  the  nail  for  her. 

When  Lucy  came  up  to  Joanna's  table,  Joan- 
3 


26  lucy's  stories. 

na  laid  down  her  pen,  and  sighed,  just  as  Lucy 
had  done,  and  said,  in  exactly  the  same  tone, 

"  O  dear  me  !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Joanna  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  Why,  I  can't  write.  I  want  to  finish  my 
letter,  so  as  to  go  out  and  take  a  walk ;  and  I  can't 
get  along,  because  here  is  a  little  girl,  who  keeps 
interrupting  me  all  the  time." 

"  Well,  Joanna,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  only  want  to 
have  you  get  this  nail  out  for  me.  You  said  I 
might  speak  to  you,  if  it  was  especial" 

Joanna  took  the  hammer  and  the  little  table 
out  of  Lucy's  hand,  saying,  at  the  same  time, 

"  I  wish,  Lucy,  you  would  go  out  into  the 
kitchen,  until  I  have  finished  my  letter." 

"  Why,  Joanna,"  said  Lucy,  "  there  is  not  any 
body  out  in  the  kitchen  to  take  care  of  me." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Joanna,  "  I  will  make  a 
bargain  with  you.  As  soon  as  I  have  finished 
my  letter,  I  am  going  out  to  take  a  walk,  to  get 
some  broom-stuff.  Now,  if  you  will  be  perfectly 
still,  and  not  speak  to  me  once,  I  will  ask  your 
mother  to  let  you  go  with  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Lucy,  very  much  pleased. 

"  And  I  will  get  you  four  flowers,"  said  Jo- 
anna.    "  But  if  you  speak  to  me  once  while  I  am 


Joanna's  room.  27 

writing,  1  shall  only  get  you  three  flowers ;  and 
so  every  time  you  speak  you  must  lose  one  flower. 
And  if  you  speak  more  than  four  times,  then  I 
shall  not  ask  your  mother  to  let  you  go." 

"  Well,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  shall  not  speak  once ; 
you  may  depend." 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  Joanna.  "  I  will  draw 
out  this  nail,  and  then  you  may  go  and  sit  down ; 
and  when  we  are  ready,  I  shall  say,  One,  two, 
three,  and  begin." 

So  Joanna  drew  out  the  nail,  then  put  the  little 
table,  and  the  hammer,  and  the  nail,  back  into 
Lucy's  hands ;  and  Lucy  went  back  and  took 
her  seat  upon  the  floor.  When  she  was  fairly 
seated  at  her  work,  Joanna  said,  in  a  very  deliber- 
ate voice, 

"  One  —  two  —  three  —  and  begin." 

"  O  Joanna,"  said  Lucy,  "  there  is  just  one 
thing  before  we  begin  that  I  want  to  know ;  and 
that  is,  what  broom-stuff  is." 

"  There  goes  one  of  your  flowers,"  said  Joanna. 

« Why,  Joanna,  I  was  not  ready  to  begin 
then,"  said  Lucy,  in  a  complaining  tone. 

"  There  goes  another." 

Lucy  was  a  little  vexed  to  find  that  Joanna 
would  not  answer  her  in  any  way,  except  telling 
her  that  she  was  losing  her  flowers,  and  so  she 


2S 


was  silent.  Piesently  she  began  to  reflect  that 
the  agreement  had  been  fairly  made,  and  that, 
after  Joanna  had  given  the  signal  for  beginning, 
she  ought  not  to  have  spoken.  Still  she  wanted, 
very  much,  to  know  what  broom-stuff  was.  After 
thinking  of  it  a  moment,  she  concluded  to  wait, 
and  ask  Joanna  when  they  were  taking  the  walk ; 
and  then  she  resolutely  determined  that  she  would 
not  speak  a  single  word  again,  on  any  account 
whatever. 

And  she  did  not  speak  for  some  time.  But 
when,  at  length,  she  got  her  table  finished,  she  was 
so  much  pleased  to  see  how  well  it  would  stand, 
that  she  wanted  very  much  to  ask  Joanna  to  look 
at  it.  She  would  not  do  it,  however,  as  she  knew 
she  should  lose  another  of  her  flowers.  So  she 
sat  still,  waiting,  and  wishing  that  Joanna  would 
come  to  the  end  of  her  letter. 

At  length  she  got  up  softly,  and  took  her  table 
in  her  hand,  thinking  that  she  would  go  and  carry 
it  to  Joanna,  and  just  hold  it  up  before  her,  and 
let  her  see  it,  without,  however,  speaking  a  word. 

This  was  wrong ;  for  Lucy  ought  to  have 
known  that  holding  up  the  table  before  Joanna, 
so  as  to  call  her  attention  to  it,  would  be  taking 
her  attention  off  from  her  writing,  and  so  would 
interrupt  her  as  effectually  as  if  she  were  to  speak 


Joanna's  room.  29 

to  her  in  a  loud  voice.  It  is  not  so  much  the 
sound  that  is  made  by  tfce  voice,  which  interrupts 
a  person  who  is  busy,  as  the  influence  of  what  is 
said,  upon  the  mind,  in  attracting  the  attention ; 
so  that  a  loud  noise  of  a  carnage  going  by,  or  of 
winds  and  storms  beating  against  the  windows, 
would  not  interrupt  a  person  as  much  as  a  ques- 
tion asked  in  the  lowest  whisper,  or  even  an  object, 
like  Lucy's  table,  held  up  for  a  person  to  see. 

When  Lucy  came  up  to  Joanna  with  her  table, 
Joanna  went  on  with  her  writing,  and  took  no 
notice  of  it.  Lucy  then  held  it  a  little  nearer. 
Joanna  knew  that  she  was  there,  but  she  went 
on  writing,  without  looking  up  or  saying  a  word. 
Lucy  waited  a  minute  or  two  longer,  and  then 
she  could  no  longer  resist  the  temptation  to  say, 
as  she  did  in  a  very  low  and  gentle  voice, 

"  Look,  Joanna ! " 

Joanna  raised  her  eyes  from  her  work,  and 
looked  not  at  the  table,  but  at  Lucy  herself,  and 
said, 

"  There  goes  another  of  your  flowers :  now 
there  is  but  one  left." 

Lucy  turned  away  in  silence,  and  went  back 

to  her  place.     She  was  very  sorry  that  she  had 

lost  so  many  of  her  flowers ;    and  she  secretly 

thought  that  Joanna  was  very   strict;   but   she 

3* 


30  lucy's  stories. 

knew  that  if  she  made  any  remonstrance  or  com- 
plaint, she  should  lose  tliQ  last  flower  too. 

After  sitting  upon  the  floor  a  few  minutes 
longer,  she  concluded  that  she  would  go  and  put 
her  blocks  and  other  things  away,  and  get  ready 
to  go  and  take  the  walk,  —  so  as  not  to  lose 
any  time  when  Joanna's  letter  should  be  finished. 
This  was  a  very  wise  plan  ;  for,  by  going  out  of 
the  room,  she  made  sure  of  not  interrupting  Jo- 
anna again. 

So  Lucy  went  and  put  her  blocks  and  hammer 
away  in  her  treasury,  and  then  went  to  find  her 
mother,  in  order  to  ask  her  if  she  might  go  and 
take  a  walk  with  Joanna.  She  could  not  find 
her  mother;  but  she  found  Miss  Anne,  who 
told  her  that  her  mother  had  gone  out  to  walk, 
and  would  not  come  back  until  tea-time. 

Then  Lucy  told  Miss  Anne  of  Joanna's  pro- 
posal to  take  her  out  to  walk  with  her,  and  she 
asked  Miss  Anne  if  she  might  go. 

"  I  rather  think,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "  that  Jo- 
anna would  prefer  to  go  alone.  You  asked  her 
first  to  let  you  go  with  her,  didn't  you  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Lucy,  "  she  proposed  it  herself. 
She  said  that  if  1  would  not  speak  to  her,  a  word, 
till  she  had  finished  her  letter,  she  would  let 
me  go." 


Joanna's  room.  31 

"  And  did  not  you  speak  to  her  ? "  said  Miss 
Anne. 

"  Yes  ;  but  she  said,"  added  Lucy,  "  that  if  I 
did  not  speak  but  four  times,  I  might  go,  but  then 
I  must  not  have  any  flowers." 

Miss  Anne  did  not  understand  this  explana- 
tion very  well ;  but  then  she  did  not  care  much 
whether  she  understood  it  or  not.  She  was  busy, 
reading ;  and  all  that  she  wanted,  was  to  be  sure 
that  Joanna  was  really  willing  to  have  Lucy  go 
with  her.  For  as  Joanna  was  going  out  to  walk, 
to  refresh  and  enjoy  herself,  after  her  work,  she 
thought  that  it  would  not  be  right  for  Lucy  to 
go  as  her  companion,  unless  Joanna  was  really 
willing. 

So  Miss  Anne  said,  in  reply  to  Lucy's  request, 

"  You  may  go  back  and  wait  until  Joanna  is 
ready.  I  cannot  let  you  go,  merely  because  you 
ask  it ;  but  if  she  asks  it  herself,  or  sends  you  to 
ask  it,  then  I  will  consider  whether  I  will  take 
the  responsibility  of  letting  you  go." 

.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  responsibility  ?  "  said 
Lucy. 

"Why,  when  your  mother  went  out,"  said 
Miss  Anne,  "  she  did  not  give  me  any  authority 
to  let  you  go  and  take  a  walk.  Now,  if  I  should 
let  you  go,  in  such  a  case,  because  I  suppose  she 


32  lucy's   STORIES- 

would  consent  if  she  were  here,  it  would  be  ta- 
king responsibility.  I  should  be  responsible  to 
her  if  she  should  ask  me  about  it.  I  ought  to  have 
good  reasons  to  give  her,  why  I  let  you  go." 

"  I  don't  understand  it  very  well,"  said  Lucy. 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Anne,  laughing,  "  and  I  don't 
blame  you  very  much,  for  1  don't  think  that  I 
explain  it  very  well.  But  never  mind  now.  I 
hear  Joanna,  I  believe,  in  the  kitchen  ;  and  I  ex- 
pect that  she  has  finished  her  letter,  and  is  getting 
ready  to  go." 

Lucy  ran  off  with  all  speed,  to  see  if  Joanna 
was  really  ready  to  go.  She-  found  that  she  had 
finished  her  letter,  and  was  putting  on  her  bonnet. 
Lucy  told  Joanna  what  Miss  Anne  had  said,  and 
Joanna  sent  her  back  to  say  that  she  should 
really  like  to  have  her  go  with  her.  Accordingly 
Miss  Anne  took  the  responsibility  of  giving  her 
permission. 

When  Lucy  got  back,  she  found  Joanna  sharp- 
ening a  knife  upon  a  stone,  which  was  placed 
upon  a  shelf  in  the  back  kitchen,  for  that  purpose. 

"  What  is  that  knife  for?  "  said  Lucy. 

"It  is  to  get  my  broom-stuff  with,"  said 
Joanna. 

"  O  yes,"  said  Lucy ;  "  and  now  you  must  tell 
me  what  broom-stuff  is." 


joanna's  room.  33 

"  Why,  broom-stuff,  child,"  said  Joanna,  "  is 
the  stuff  that  they  make  brooms  of." 

Joanna  went  on  sharpening  her  knife,  and 
Lucy  was  silent.  Presently,  when  Joanna  had 
made  the  knife  as  sharp  as  she  wished,  she  looked 
round,  and  saw  that  Lucy  was  leaning  forward, 
and  looking  very  intently  at  a  broom  which  was 
hanging  near  her,  against  the  wall. 

"  O,  not  such  broom-stuff  as  that,"  said  Joanna. 
"  I  am  going  to  make  a  hemlock  broom." 

"  A  hemlock  broom  ?  "  inquired  Lucy.  "  Is 
a  hemlock  broom  better  than  such  a  broom  as 
this  ? " 

"  O,  I  don't  know,"  said  Joanna.  "  A  hem- 
lock broom  is  such  a  one  as  the  farmers  make, 
who  live  in  the  woods.  I  have  not  seen  one  for 
a  long  time,  but  I  used  to  make  them  when  I 
was  a  little  girl,  and  I  want  to  make  one  now, 
if  it  is  only  to  make  me  think  of  old  times.  So 
I  am  sharpening  my  knife  to  cut  the  hemlock 
branches." 

"  I  should  think  that  Royal's  hatchet  would  be 
j  better,"  said  Lucy. 

"If  he  would  go  with  us  to  out  down  the 
branches,"  answered  Joanna. 

"  Well,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  will  go  and  see  if  I 
can  find  him." 


34  lucy's  stories. 

But  Lucy  could  not  find  him ;  and  so  she 
and  Joanna  had  to  go  alone.  Joanna  carried 
her  knife  in  one  hand,  and  led  Lucy  with  the 
other. 

They  walked  along  through  the  garden,  and 
thence  out  through  a  back  gate,  which  led  into 
the  lane.  This  led  down  into  the  glen,  behind 
the  house.  They  crossed  the  brook  where  Royal 
had  made  the  pen  to  confine  his  turtle,  as  de- 
scribed in  Lucy's  Conversations. 

After  passing  this  brook,  they  followed  a  wind- 
ing path  which  led  along  among  rocks  and  trees, 
until  they  came  to  a  dense  thicket,  where  Joanna 
said  she  had  observed  that  there. was  plenty  of 
hemlock  trees.  Lucy  could  not  tell  the  hemlock 
trees  from  a  great  many  others  which  looked 
somewhat  like  them. 

Joanna  cut  off  a  great  many  small  branches, 
and  threw  them  down  upon  the  grass  as  fast  as 
she  cut  them.  Lucy  gathered  them  up  as  fast 
as  they  were  cut,  and  put  them  by  themselves, 
taking  care  to  put  the  stems  all  one  way.  Jo- 
anna told  her  that  she  would  cut  some  small 
branches  for  her,  so  that  she  could  make  a  little 
broom  for  herself,  when  she  went  home,  —  if  she 
could   only  get   Royal  to   make  her  a   handle. 


JOANNA'S    ROOM. 


35 


They  staid  in  this  place  nearly  half  an  hour,  and 
then  they  went  home. 

As  they  were  going  home,  Lucy  called  upon 
Joanna  to  get  her  her  flower;  but  Joanna  said 
that  she  was  tired  of  rambling  about,  and  §he 
asked  Lucy  if  she  should  not  be  willing  to  take  a 
story,  instead  of  a  flower.  Lucy  said  that  she 
should ;  and,  accordingly,  Joanna  told  her  the  story 
of  the  Fog  upon  the  Mountains,  as  they  walked 
slowly  homewards.  This  story,  though  not  in 
precisely  the  language  in  which  Joanna  related  it, 
is  given  in  the  next  chapter. 


36  lucy's  stories. 

CHAPTER    III. 

STORY  OF  THE  FOG  ON  THE   MOUNTAINS. 

There  was  once  a  girl  named  Mary,  whc 
lived  with  her  father  and  mother,  in  a  farm-house 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  When  she  was 
about  eight  years  old,  her  mother  taught  her  to 
milk,  and  she  was  veiy  much  pleased  with  this 
attainment. 

Her  father  made  her  a  little  milking  stool  with 
three  legs  and  a  handle,  which  she  used  to  keep 
upon  the  bam  yard  fence,  by  the  side  of  her 
mother's  larger  milking  stool ;  and  every  morning 
and  evening  she  went  out,  and  while  her  mother 
was  milking  the  two  other  cows,  she  would  milk 
the  one  which  she  called  hers.  Her  cow's  name 
was  May-day. 

One  night  May-day  did  not  come  home  with 
the  other  cows;  but  Mary's  mother  said  that  she 
thought  she  would  be  in  the  lane  at  the  bars  jffio 
next  morning.  But  on  the  next  morning  no 
May-day  was  to  be  seen ;  and  Mary  asked  b^r 
mother  to  let  her  set  off  after  breakfast,  and  go  up 


FOG   .ON    THE    MOUNTAINS.  37 

the  mountain  and  find  her.  For  the  pasture^ 
where  the  cows  fed,  extended  some  distance  up 
the  sides  of  one  of  the  mountains.  Her  mother 
consented,  and  Mary  put  some  bread  and  cheese 
in  a  little  basket  for  luncheon,  and  bade  her  moth- 
er good  morning,  and  went  away.  She  crept 
through  the  bars  which  led  to  the  lane,  and  then 
followed  the  path,  until  she  disappeared  from 
view  among  the  trees  and  bushes. 

After  a  short  time,  she  came  to  a  brook.  The 
path  led  across  the  brook ;  there  was  a  log  across 
it  for  Mary,  to  walk  on.  She  stopped  upon  the 
middle  of  the  log  to  look  down  into  the  water. 
The  bed  of  the  brook  was  filled  with  stones, 
which' were  all  covered  with  green  moss,  and  the 
water,  'in  flowing  along,  seemed  to  be  meandering 
among  tufts  of  moss.     It  was  very  beautiful. 

Mary  determined  to  come  some  day  and  get 
some  moss  from  these  stones,  and  make  a  moss 
seat  near  the  house,  to  sit  upon ;  and  then  she 
reflected  that  she  ought  not  to  stop  any  longer 
looking  at  the  brook,  but  that  she  must  go  on  in 
search  of  her  cow.  So  she  walked  along  to  the 
end  of  the  log,  and  then  stepped  off,  and  followed 
the  path  which  led  through  the  woods,  gently  as- 
cending. 

In  about  half  an  hour,  Mary  came  out  into  an 
4 


38 


opening ;  that  is,  to  a  place  where  the  trees  had 
been  cleared  away,  and  grass  had  grown  up  all 
over  the  ground.  There  were  several  clumps  of 
trees  growing  here  and  there,  and  a  good  many 
raspberry  bushes,  with  ripe  raspberries,  upon  them. 
Mary  thought  that,  after  she  had  found  the  cow, 
she  would  gather  some  of  the  raspberries,  and  eat 
them  with  her  luncheon.  So  she  went  on  to  the 
top  of  a  little  hill,  or  swell  of  land,  which  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  opening,  and  looked  around. 

The  cow  was  no  where  to  be  seen.  The 
opening  was  bounded  by  woods,  in  every  direc- 
tion. On  one  side,  these  woods  extended  far 
back  among  glens  and  valleys,  and  up  the  sides  of 
the  mountains.  On  the  other,  Mary  could  see 
over  the  tops  of  the  forest  trees,  away  to  her  fa- 
ther's house,  which  was  far  below  her,  down  the 
valley.  She  could  distinguish  the  house  and  the 
barn,  and  the  long  shed  between  them  ;  and  pres- 
ently she  noticed  something  moving  in  the  barn 
yard,  and  by  close  attention  she  made  it  out  to  be 
her  father  with  the  cart  and  oxen  going  off  to  the 
field. 

There  was,  however,  a  kind  of  mist  slowly 
creeping  up  the  valley,  which  soon  began  to  hide 
this  group  of  buildings  from  Mary's  view.  It 
was  one  of  those  mornings  in  autumn  when  a  fog 


FOG    ON    THE    MOUNTAINS.  39 

hangs  over  the  rivers  and  brooks,  and  creeps  along 
the  valleys,  and  at  length,  as  the  morning  advances, 
it  rises  and  spreads  until  the  whole  country  is 
covered ;  and  then  it  breaks  away,  and  floats  off 
in  clouds,  and  is  gradually  dissipated  by  the  sun. 
The  fog  was  rising  in  this  way  now,  and  Mary 
watched  it  for  a  few  minutes,  as  it  moved  slowly 
on.  First  the  bam  yard  fence  disappeared  ;  then 
the  shed ;  then  the  house,  all  but  the  chimneys ; 
then  the  bam ;  and  finally  nothing  but  a  great 
white  cloud  could  be  seen  covering  the  whole.  As 
Mary  looked  around  her,  she  saw  similar  fog  banks 
lying  in  long,  waving  lines  over  the  courses  of  the 
streams,  or  spreading  slowly  through  the  valleys. 

She  took  one  more  look  in  every  direction,  all 
around  the  opening,  for  the  cow;  and  then  she 
concluded  that  she  would  eat  her  luncheon,  before 
she  went  any  farther.  There  were  two  reasons 
for  this ;  she  began  to  feel  hungry,  —  and  then 
she  was  tired  of  carrying  her  basket.  So  she 
lightened  her  basket  by  eating  up  the  bread  and 
^heese,  and  then  rambled  around  among  the 
raspberry  bushes  for  some  minutes,  eating  rasp- 
berries. 

When,  at  length,  Mary  came  out  from  among 
the  bushes,  she  was  astonished  to  find  that  the 
whole  country  all  around  the  little  hill,  that  she 


40  lucy's  stories. 

was  standing  upon,  was  covered  with  fog.  It 
looked  like  a  sea,  or  rather  like  a  great  lake  sur- 
rounded by  mountains  in  the  distance,  and  spot- 
ted with  islands,  which  were,  in  fact,  the  summits 
of  the  nearer  hills,  which  rose  above  the  surface 
of  the  vapor. 

Although  Mary  could  still  thus  see  a  great  deal 
of  land,  yet  it  looked  so  strange  to  her,  that  she 
could  not  recognize  any  of  it.  The  hills  were 
her  old  familiar  friends,  but  she  did  not  know 
them  under  the  disguise  of  islands  and  promon- 
tories in  a  lake.     She  did  not  know  what  to  do. 

She  concluded,  however,  pretty  soon,  that  she 
would  ramble  about  a  little  while,  looking  for  the 
cow,  but  not  far  away  from  the  hill,  and  then, 
when  the  fog  should  clear  off,  she  could  see 
which  way  to  go.  So  she  came  down  the  hill, 
and  began  to  walk  about  the  opening,  and  in  the 
edge  of  the  woods  ;  but  no  cow  was  to  be  seen. 

At  one  time,  when  she  had  got  into  the  woods 
a  little  farther  than  usual,  following  a  little  path 
which  led  along  a  green  bank  under  some  tall 
maples,  she  observed  a  gray  squirrel,  running,  01 
rather  gliding,  along  a  log,  with  his  plume  of  a 
tail  curved  gracefully  over  his  back.  From  the 
end  of  the  log  he  passed  through  the  air,  with  a 
very  graceful  leap,  to  the  extremity  of  a  low  limb 


FOG    ON    THE    MOUNTAINS.  41 

hanging  down  from  a  great  hemlock  tree.  The 
limb  bent  down  with  his  weight  almost  to  the 
ground.  He  ran  up  the  limb  to  the  body  of  the 
tree,  and  then  up  the  tree  half  way  to  the  top, 
where  he  ran  out  to  the  extremity  of  a  long 
branch ;  and  then  leaped  across,  at  a  great  height, 
into  the  top  of  a  maple  which  grew  at  a  little  dis- 
tance. Mary  was  delighted  with  the  beautiful 
form  and  graceful  motions  of  the  squirrel,  and  she 
followed  him  along,  until  at  last  he  ran  into  a  hole 
in  the  side  of  a  monstrous  tree.  It  was  rather  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  —  for  it  was  so  old  that  the  top 
had  long  since  fallen  away,  and  left  the  trunk 
alone  standing,  —  old,  shaggy,  and  hollow.  His 
nest  was  there. 

Mary  waited  a  few  minutes  to  see  if  he  would 
come  out ;  but  he  did  not.  Just  at  this  time  she 
began  to  observe  that  it  was  somewhat  misty 
around  her,  in  the  woods.  She  then  thought 
that  the  fog  must  have  been  rising  and  spreading 
until  it  had  reached  the  place  where  she  was; 
rfnd  she  began  to  be  afraid  that  she  should  not  be 
able  to  see  across  the  opening,  so  as  to  find  her 
way  back  to  the  hill,  in  the  middle  of  it.  She 
immediately  attempted  to  go  back  to  the  open- 
ing, but  she  could  not  find  her  way.  She  soon 
became  bewildered  and  lost;  and  the  more  she 
4* 


42  lucy's  stories. 

wandered  about,  the  more  she  seemed  to  get  en 
tangled  in  the  woods. 

]\lary  did  not  know  what  to  do.  She  sat  down 
upon  a  large  stone,  and  began  to  feel  very  anxious 
and  unhappy.  She  thought  that,  if  the  sun  would 
only  shine,  she  could  tell  which  way  to  go ;  for 
she  had  often  observed,  when  she  was  coming  up 
into  the  pasture  in  the  morning,  that  she  was 
coming  away  from  the  sun ;  and  when  she  went 
back,  it  shone  in  her  face.  So  she  knew  that  if 
she  could  see  the  sun,  and  go  towards  it,  she 
would  soon  come  down  near  to  her  father's  house. 

She  sat  here  for  some  time,  but  the  fog  seemed 
to  grow  thicker  and  thicker.  As  she  was  musing 
upon  her  lonely  and  somewhat  dangerous  situa- 
tion, she  heard  a  rustling  in  a  thicket  pretty  near 
her.  At  first  she  thought  it  was  a  bear;  and 
she  was  alarmed.  Then  she  reflected  that  her 
father  had  told  her  there  were  no  bears  in  his 
pasture,  and  she  concluded  that  she  would  go 
cautiously  and  see  what  it  was. 

So  she  crept  along  softly,  and  presently  began 
to  get  glimpses  through  the  thicket.  The  bushes 
moved  more  and  more.  There  was  something 
red  there ;  it  was  a  cow.  A  moment  afterwards, 
she  came  into  full  view  of  it ;  and  behold  it  was 
May-day ! 


FOG    ON    THE    MOUNTAINS.  43 

Mary  was  rejoiced,  but  she  could  not  think 
what  May-day  was  doing  there ;  she  seemed  to 
be  hooldng  the  bushes.  Mary  took  up  a  stick, 
and  attempted  to  drive  her  out ;  but  May-day  did' 
not  move  from  her  place,  —  she  only  stepped 
about  a  little,  and  hooked  the  bushes  more  than 
ever.  This  was  very  mysterious ;  and  Mary 
came  up  nearer,  and  looked  very  earnestly  to  dis- 
cover what  it  could  mean.  At  length  the  mys- 
tery was  unravelled.  The  cow  was  caught  by 
the  horns  in  the  thicket,  and  could  not  get  away. 
Somehow  or  other,  in  rubbing  her  head  upon  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  she  had  got  her  horns  locked  in  a 
sort  of  tangle  of  branches  which  grew  there,  and 
she  could  not  get  them  out  again. 

At  first,  Mary  did  not  see  that  she  could  do  any 
thing  herself  to  help  the  poor  cow  out  of  her 
difficulty,  except  to  find  her  own  way  out  of  the 
woods  as  soon  as  possible,  and  get  her  father  to 
come  and  release  her.  On  more  mature  reflec- 
tion, however,  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  would  be 
an  excellent  thing  if  she  could  get  the  cow  free ; 
for  probably  the  cow  would  know  the  way  home, 
and  so  she  could  herself  find  the  way  by  just 
following  her.  She  accordingly  went  nearer,  in 
order  to  examine   the  branches,  by   which   the 


44 


horns  had  been  entangled,  more  closely,  so  as  to 
see  if  she  could  not  do  something  to  help  the 
cow  to  extricate  herself. 

She  found  that  the  horns  had  got  caught  in 
such  a  way,  that  if  the  cow  would  move  her 
head  sideways,  she  could  get  it  out,  —  though 
she  could  not  get  it  out  by  moving  it  'backwards 
or  forwards,  nor  by  working  it  up  and  down.  So 
she  determined  to  tiy  to  make  the  cow  move 
sideways.  First,  however,  she  took  hold  of  the 
end  of  one  long  branch,  which  helped  to  confine 
the  horns,  and  pulled  it  away  as  far  as  she  could ; 
and  then  she  contrived  to  get  this  end  around  behind 
another  tree,  so  as  to  prevent  its  springing  back. 
This  made  it  easier  for  the  cow  to  get  out.'  Then^ 
she  got  a  stick,  and  came  around!  to  the  side  of  the 
cow,  and  tried  to  drive  her.  The  cow  pulled,  and 
pushed,  and  staggered  around  this  way  and  that, 
—  every  way,  in  fact,  but  the  right  way.  Mary 
perceived,  however,  that  her  horns  were  gradually 
working  along  between  the  limbs,  towards  the 
place  where  they  could  get  free.  So  she  perse- 
vered. At  length  one  horn  slipped  out,  and  the 
other  followed  immediately  after;  and  the  cow, 
partly  through  her  joy  at  being  released  from  her 
confinement,  and  partly  from  fear  of  the    great 


FOG     ON    THE    MOUNTAINS.  47 

stick  which  Mary  had  been  brandishing  against 
her,  wheeled  around,  and  gallopped  out  of  the 
thicket,  tossing  her  horns  and  whisking  her  tail. 

Mary  walked  along  after  her,  in  hopes  that  she 
would  at  once  take  the  road  which  would  lead 
home.  The  cow  walked  steadily  on,  and  Mary 
soon  perceived  that  there  was  something  like  a 
path  where  she  was  going.  It  led  sometimes 
over  grass  ground,  and  sometimes  through  trees 
and  bushes  ;  but  it  all  looked  strange  to  Maiy, 
and  the  fog  was  so  thick  that  she  could  see 
but  a  very  short  distance  on  each  side  of  her. 
Once  the  path  which  the  cow  was  taking  led 
through  a  low,  wet  place  in  the  woods,  which 
looked  very  muddy.  But  Mary  did  not  dare  to 
stop ;  for  she  did  not  know  what  she  should  do 
to  find  her  way  out,  if  she  should  lose  sight  of 
the  cow.  So  she  pulled  off  her  stockings  and 
shoes  as  quick  as  possible,  in  order  to  keep  them 
clean  and  dry,  and  then  followed  on,  running 
(rtong  upon  the  mossy  logs,  and  leaping  from 
stump  to  stone.  She  got  safely  over;  but  she 
had  not  time  to  put  on  her  stockings  and  snoes 
again,  for  fear  of  losing  the  track  of  the  cow, 
and  so  she  went  on  barefoot. 

She  proceeded  in  this  way  for  some  time,  — 
until,  at  length,  suddenly  the  cow  came  out  into  a 


48 


wider  and  better  path ;  and  in  a  minute  or  two 
after,  she  came  up  to  a  pair  of  bars,  and  stopped. 
Mary  could  not  think  where  she  was.  She 
looked  around.  She  could  perceive  the  dim  form 
of  some  great  square  building  at  a  little  distance, 
just  distinguishable  through  the  fog.  She  climbed 
up  upon  the  fence,  to  look  at  it  more  distinctly. 
It  was  her  father's  barn ;  and  the  house  was  close 
by.  In  a  word,  the  cow  had  conducted  her  safely 
home.  Mary  could  excel  her  altogether  in  con- 
triving a  way  to  get  her  horns  disentangled  from 
the  branches  of  a  tree ;  but  she  could  beat  Mary 
in  finding  her  way  out  of  the  woods  in  a  fog.  In 
fact,  Mary  found  that,  though  she  was  a  very  poor 
contriver,  she  was  a  very  good  guide. 


MARY    JAY.  49 


CHAPTER    IV 


MARY  JAY. 


Lucy  went  to  a  kind  of  a  school,  when  she  was 
about  five  years  old.  It  was  a  family  school ; 
that  is,  a  school  for  the  children  of  one  family, 
though  several  other  children  went  to  it.  There 
was  no  large  school  near  where  Lucy  lived,  be- 
cause there  were  not  children  enough.  And  so 
one  of  the  families  that  lived  near  there  employed 
a  teacher  to  come  and  teach  a  few  children. 
The  school-room  was  a  little  back  room,  up  stairs, 
over  the  gardener's  room. 

Lucy  had  no  school  to  go  to ;  and,  as  she  had 
the  character  of  being  a  very  still,  gentle,  and 
obedient  girl,  the  lady  and  gentleman  who  had 
'established  the  family  school,  said  that  she  might 
come  and  be  taught  with  their  children.  Lucy 
was  glad,  for  she  wanted  to  go  to  school. 

One  of  the  scholars  came  to  call  for  her  the 
first  day,  to  show  her  the  way.  It  was  a  pleas- 
ant summer  morning,  and  the  birds  were  singing 
in  the  trees. 


50  lucy's  stories. 

The  girl  that  came  for  Lucy  appeared  to  be  a 
year  or  two  older  than  Lucy.  She  came  in,  and 
sat  still  in  the  parlor  while  she  was  waiting  for 
Lucy  to  get  ready.  Lucy's  mother  spoke  to  her 
several  times,  but  she  did  not  answer  much.  She 
seemed  to  be  afraid. 

Presently,  when  Lucy  was  ready,  they  went 
out  of  the  door  together.  Lucy  had  her  bag  in 
her  hand,  with  an  apple  and  a  book  in  it.  The 
other  girl  had  a  bag  too.  She  opened  the  gate 
to  let  Lucy  go  out,  and  then  shut  it  after  her. 
Lucy's  mother  stood  at  the  door,  and  bade  them 
good  morning. 

The  two  children  took  hold  of  each  other's 
hands,  and  walked  along  for  some  minutes,  with- 
out speaking  a  word.     At  length  Lucy's  com 
panion  said  to  her,  timidly, 

"  Isn't  your  name  Lucy  ?  " 

"  Yes,    said  Lucy. 

They  walked  along  a  little  farther  without 
speaking,  when  Lucy  said,  with  a  hesitating  voice, 

"  I  don't  know  what  your  name  is." 

"My  name  is  Marielle,"  said  the    other  girl. 

"  Why,  what  a  funny  name !  "  said  Lucy. 
"  I  never  heard  of  any  body  named  Marielle." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Marielle ;  "  and  my  name 


MARY    JAY.  51 

was  Mary  at  first,  but  now  they  always  call  me 
Marielle." 

"  What  for  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"Why,  you  see,"  said  Marielle,  "that  my 
mother's  name  is  Mary,  too ;  and  so  my  father 
and  my  uncle  William  always  called  her  Mary, 
and  they  called  me  little  Mary,  to  distinguish. 
And  I  did  not  like  to  be  called  little  Mary,  and 
I  told  my  father  so." 

"  And  then  did  he  change  your  name  to  Ma- 
rielle ? "  said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marielle.  "  He  told  mother  that 
ella  or  elle,  was  a  kind  of  an  ending  that  meant 
little ;  and  so  they  called  me  Mariella,  and  now 
generally  they  call  me  Marielle." 

"I  think, your  name  is  a  very  pretty  name," 
said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marielle.  "  I  like  it  a  great  deal 
better  than  little  Mary ;  but  I  don't  like  it  per- 
fectly well,  for  it  means  little,  after  all." 

The  children  walked  along  by  a  foot  path  at 
the  side  of  the  road  for  some  minutes  after  this, 
until  at  length  they  came  to  a  stone  wall,  pretty 
tight  and  smooth  upon  the  outside,  and  higher 
than  the  children's  heads.  Branches  of  trees  and 
shrubbery   hung   over   the   wall   from   the    top. 


52 


Marielle  said  that  their  garden  was  over  the  other 
side  of  that  wall. 

"  Your  garden  ? "  said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marielle  ;  "  and  that  is  where  we 
go  to  play  in  the  recesses  of  our  school." 

After  they  had  gone  a  little  farther,  Lucy 
found  that  they  were  coming  near  a  house,  which 
had  a  handsome  yard  in  front,  filled  with  trees 
and  shrubbery.  Just  before  they  reached  this 
yard,  there  was  a  sort  of  a  door,  in  the  stone 
wall,  very  near  the  end  of  it,  which  Marielle 
suddenly  opened.  She  stepped  in  herself,  and 
then  held  the  door  open  for  Lucy  to  follow. 
Lucy  went  in,  cautiously  and  timidly,  and  found 
herself  in  a  long  passage-way,  with  a  smooth 
gravel  walk  beneath  her  feet,  and  a  pretty  green 
grass  border  on  each  side.  Beyond  the  border, 
on  one  side,  was  die  paling,  or  open  fence,  which 
separated  the  passage  from  the  front  yard  of  the 
house.  On  the  other  side  was  a  kind  of  frame- 
work called  a  trellis,  which  was  covered  with 
grape-vines.     Beyond  the  trellis  was  the  garden. 

Marielle  shut  the  door,  and  latched  it,  after 
Lucy,  and  then  said, 

"  We  call  this  the  door  gate,  and  we  must 
never  leave  it  open,  Lucy." 


MARY   JAY.  53 

Then  she  walked  along  through  the  passage- 
way, and  Lucy  followed  her.  At  the  end  of  it, 
they  came  into  a  pleasant  little  yard,  near  the  enc 
of  the  house ;  and  they  passed  across  this  yard,  and 
thence  through  another  gate,  which  was  low,  and 
made  of  open  work.  They  passed  through  this 
gate,  and  then  turned  round  a  corner,  and  went 
along  a  walk  with  rose-bushes  and  snowballs  upon 
one  side,  and  flower-beds  upon  the  other,  until 
they  came  to  a  door.  This  door  was  open,  and 
several  children  were  sitting  upon  the  steps,  ar- 
ranging flowers. 

Lucy  staid  here  a  few  minutes,  and  then  they 
heard  a  little  bell  ring,  and  all  the  children  began 
to  run  up  stairs.  Marielle  waited  to  go  up  with 
Lucy,  and  show  her  the  way.  When  they 
reached  the  top  of  the  stairs,  they  turned,  and 
went  into  the  school-room. 

Lucy  thought  it  was  a  very  pleasant  school- 
room ;  but  she  did  not  have  time  to  look  about 
much,  for  Marielle  led  her  directly  to  the  teach- 
er's table.  The  teacher  said  that  she  was  glad  to 
see  her,  and  asked  her  to  look  around  the  room, 
and  see  where  she  should  like  to  sit.  Lucy  looked 
about  a  little,  but  could  not  decide  very  well ;  and 
so  she  said  that  she  should  like  to  sit  with  Ma 
rielle. 

5* 


54 


u  y^jy  we]}?»  said  the  teacher ;  "is  there  room 
at  your  table.  Marielle  ?  " 

Marielle  said  there  was  room ;  and  so  she  led 
Lucy  along  to  the  corner  where  her  seat  was. 
There  was  a  little  table  there,  and  a  chair  near  it. 
There  was  also  a  small  book-shelf  upon  the  wall, 
near, where  Marielle  kept  her  books,  and  a  nail  by 
•the  side  of  it,  where  she  hung  her  bag. 

Marielle  brought  a  small  chair  for  Lucy,  and 
put  it  by  the  side  of  her  table,  and  she  hung  her 
bag  upon  her  nail.  She  told  her,  however,  that 
in  the  recess  she  would  go  and  get  another  nail, 
and  drive  it  up  upon  Lucy's  side  of  the  book- 
shelf, so  that  Lucy  could  have  a  nail  to  herself. 

Then  Lucy  sat  down  in  her  seat,  and  began  to 
*ook  about  the  room. 

There  were  several  little  tables  and  desks  in 
various  places.  Some  were  near  the  windows, 
and  others  back  near  the  teacher's  seat,  which 
was  before  the  fireplace.  Upon  the  teaeher's 
table  there  was  lying  a  large  plume,  made  of  three 
or  four  peacock's  feathers.  Marielle  told  Lucy 
that  when  that  plume  was  lying  down,  they  might 
all  talk,  but,  then,  when  the  teacher  put  it  up  in 
its  place,  at  the  end  of  the  table,  then  it  was 
study  hours,  and  they  must  not  talk  at  all. 
There  was  no  fire  in  the  fireplace,  because  it  was 


MARY    JAY.  55 

summer ;  but  instead  of  it  there  was  a  large  bouquet 
of  flowers  and  shrubbery,  which  the  children  had 
gathered  in  the  garden,  and  placed  there,  with 
the  ends  of  the  stems  in  a  jar  of  water,  which 
Stood  upon  the  hearth. 

The  school  had  not  yet  begun,  but  the  children 
were  all  busy,  getting  their  places  and  taking  out 
their  books.  They  were  talking  to  each  other 
very  busily,  but  in  low  and  gentle  tones  of  voice. 
There  were  some  boys  and  some  girls ;  but  they 
were  all  small  children,  except  one.  There  was 
one  pretty  large  girl  sitting  in  a  corner  at  a  desk  by 
herself.  One  of  the  small  children  was  standing 
by  her  side  talking  with  her.  She  had  a  round, 
full  face,  though  she  looked  rather  pale ;  and  the 
expression  of  her  face,  and  of  her  beaming  blue 
eyes,  was  an  expression  of  contentment  and 
happiness. 

Lucy  asked  Marielle  who  that  great  girl  was, 
fitting  in  the  corner ;  and  she  answered, 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  Mary  Jay  ?  That  is 
Mary  Jay.     You  see  she  is " 

Just  at  this  moment  the  little  bell  was  rung  at 
the  teacher's  table ;  and  the  teacher  put  the  plume 
up,  which  was  the  signal  for  all  the  children  to 
stop  talking,  and  attend  to  what  the  teachei  had 
to  say.     And  so  Marielle  stopped,  and  sat  back  in 


56  lucy's  stories. 

ner  chair ;  and  Lucy  therefore  lost  the  opportu- 
nity of  hearing  what  she  was  going  to  tell  her 
about  Mary  Jay.  Lucy  determined  to  ask  her  in 
the  recess  ;  but  she  forgot  it. 

For  in  the  recess  the  girls  had  such  a  joyous 
time  running  about  the  alleys  and  walks  in  the 
garden,  that  Lucy  had  no  time  to  think  of  any 
thing  else.  There  were  several  broad  walks 
crossing  each  other  at  right  angles,  and  shaded 
in  part  by  fruit-trees,  which  overhung  them.  In 
one  part  of  the  garden  there  was  a  large  square, 
covered  with  trees  and  shrubbery,  and  grass  be- 
neath. Here  the  children  played  hide-and-go- 
seek,  until  they  were  tired ;  and  then  they  went 
into  a  kind  of  a  summer-house  at  the  farther  end 
of  it,  which  Lucy  did  not  see  for  some  time,  it 
was  so  hidden  by  foliage. 

Here  the  children  sat  down  together  and  talked 
a  little  while,  and  one  of  them  asked  why  Mary 
Jay  did  not  come.  Another  of  the  children,  who 
had  a  little  book  in  her  hand,  said  that  Mary  Jay 
was  not  coming  out  that  day,  because  she  had  a 
hard  sum  to  do.  The  children  all  seemed  to  be 
sorry.  Marielle  said  that  she  thought  she  might 
just  as  well  have  left  her  sum  till  after  recess. 

"  See  what  a  picture  she  painted  for  me !  "  said 
the  little  srirl  with  a  book. 


MARY   JAY.  57 

So  saying,  she  opened  the  book,  and  took  out  a 
little  picture,  which  she  had  placed  very  carefully 
between  the  leaves.  It  was  a  very  beautiful  pic- 
ture. There  was  a  yard  with  a  garden  fence, 
and  some  trees  handng  over  it,  and  a  dove-house 
in  the  end  of  a  shed.  There  was  a  boy  there, 
too,  with  some  grains  in  a  little  basket,  trying  to 
call  down  the  doves,  to  feed  them.  One  was  flying 
down,  and  the  other  was  still  standing  upon  the 
shelf  in  front  of  the  dove-house,  looking  as  if  he 
was  just  ready  to  fly  down  too. 

The  heads  of  the  children  were  immediately 
crowded  together  around  the  picture,  and  they  all 
exclaimed  that  it  was  very  beautiful. 

"  Is  there  a  story  to  it,  Jane  ?  "  said  Marielle. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  little  girl  who  had  the  picture, 
and  whose  name,  it  seems,  was  Jane.  "  Mary 
Jay  said  there  was  a  story  to  it,  but  she  could 
not  tell  it  to  me  then,  for  there  was  not  time. 
Only  that  dove's  name,"  she  added,  pointing  to 
the  one  just  going  to  fly  down,  "  is  Bob-o'-link." 

"  Bob-o'-link  I "  exclaimed  several  voices  at 
once,  "  what  a  name  for  a  dove  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jane,  "  because  he  is  black  and 
white,  and  so  the  boy  called  him  Bob-o'-link ;  for 
a  Bob-o'-link  is  black  and  white." 

"  I  never  saw  a  Bob-o'-link,"  said  Lucy. 


58 


"  And  the  other  dove's  name  is  Cooroo,"  con- 
tinued Jane. 

"  My  brother  Royal  has  got  some  doves," 
said  Lucy. 

"  Has  he  ?  "  said  Jane ;  "  how  many  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  how  many,"  said  Lucy.  "  But 
one  of  them  is  white,  and  his  name  is  Flake." 

"  Are  your  brother's  doves  pretty  tame  ? " 
said  Marielle. 

"  Flake  is  pretty  tame,"  said  Lucy.  "  Royal 
can  catch  him  whenever  he  wants  him." 

"  Did  not  Mary  Jay  tell  you  anything  more 
about  the  picture  ?  "  said  Marielle  to  Jane. 

"  No,"  said  Jane,  "  but  she  promised  that  she 
would  tell  us  all  the  story  some  day,  out  in  the 
summer-house.     Hark  !  there  is  the  bell." 

The  girls  listened,  and  heard  the  bell  ringing ; 
and  so  they  all  began  to  go  towards  the  house. 
As  they  were  going  up  stairs  to  the  school-room, 
Lucy  asked  Marielle  why  they  always  called 
Mary  Jay  by  her  whole  name. 

"  Why  don't  you  call  her  only  Mary,  some- 
times ? "  she  asked. 

"Why,  Mary  Jay  is  not  her  whole  name," 
said  Marielle.  "That  is  only  her  first  name. 
We  always  call  her  Mary  Jay." 

"  What  is  her  whole  name,  then  ? "  said  Lucy 


MARY    JAY.  59 

But  Marielle  could  not  answer  this  question ; 
for  at  that  moment  they  went  into  the  school- 
room, and  they  saw  that  the  plume  was  up,  and 
consequently  to  speak  would  be  against  the  law. 

Lucy  heard  no  more  of  Mary  Jay  until  she 
went  home  from  school ;  and  then,  when  she  was 
giving  an  account  of  her  adventures  at  school  to 
Miss  Anne  and  Royal,  and  was  describing  Mary 
Jay,  she  ended  by  saying, 

"  And,  Royal,  you  don't  know  what  beautiful 
pictures  she  can  paint." 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  some  of  them,"  said 
Royal. 

"  1  don't  understand,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "  how 
so  old  a  scholar  happens  to  go  to  your  school. 
She  can't  belong  to  the  family.  I  don't  believe 
that  she  is  really  a  scholar  there." 

"  Yes  she  is,"  said  Lucy ;  "  she  does  sums." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  said  Royal. 

"  Because,"  said  Lucy,  "  that  was  the  reason 
why  she  could  not  come  out  in  the  recess." 

"  How  old  should  you  think  she  was,  Lucy  ?  " 
said  Miss  Anne. 

"Why,  about  twenty  —  or  forty,  at  least," 
said  Lucy. 

Royal  burst  into  a  loud  and  boisterous  fit  of 


60  lucy's  stories. 

laughter   at  this  estimate;   while    Lucy   herself 
looked  ashamed  and  perplexed,  and  said, 

"  You  need  not  laugh,  Royal ;  for,  at  any 
rate,  she  is  older  than  you." 

Royal  only  laughed  the  more  at  this  ;  —  even 
Miss  Anne  smiled,  and  Lucy,  perceiving  it,  began 
to  look  seriously  troubled.  Miss  Anne  attempted 
to  turn  her  thoughts  away  from  the  subject,  by 
asking  her  how  she  liked  her  school. 

Lucy  said  she  liked  it  very  much  indeed. 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  to  your  school,"  said 
Royal. 

"  O  no,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "  you  are  too  large." 

f:  I  am  not  so  large  as  Mary  Jay,"  said  Royal, 
"  according  to  Lucy's  story." 

"  I  don't  understand  about  Mary  Jay's  case," 
said  Miss  Anne,  "  I  confess.  There  seems  to 
be  some  mystery  about  it.  But  I  certainly  should 
not  think  that  they  would  be  willing  to  have  a 
boy  as  old  as  you  in  their  school,  —  unless  he 
was  a  very  remarkable  boy  indeed." 

"Why  not?"  said  Royal. 

"  Because,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "  it  is  a  private 
school,  opening   into    a    very    valuable  garden ; 
and,  of  course,  all  the  fruits  and  flowers  are  ex 
posed." 


MARY    JAY.  61 

"  No,  not  all"  said  Lucy ;  "  there  is  only  a 
part  of  the  garden  that  we  can  go  in." 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  said  Royal. 

"Why,  I  was  walking  along  with  Marielle, 
and  I  wanted  to  run  down  a  winding  walk  by 
the  great  pear-tree,  and  Marielle  said  we  must 
not  go  there." 

"  What  great  pear-tree  ? "  said  Royal. 

"  O,  a  great  pear-tree  there  was  there." 

"  Couldn't  you  go  there  at  all  ? "  said  Royal. 

"  Not  unless  the  teacher  went  with  us,"  said 
Lucy,  "  or  else  Mary  Jay.  At  least,  that  is  what 
Marielle  said." 

The  children  talked  no  more  about  the  school 
at  this  time,  but  Miss  Anne  said  that  she  meant 
to  ask  Lucy's  mother  about  Mary  Jay ;  for  she 
wanted  very  much  to  know  how  there  came  to 
be  so  large  a  scholar  in  such  a  little  school. 

All  this  account  of  Mary  Jay  is  given  here, 
trt&ause  Lucy  afterwards  learned  more  about  her, 
and  heard  her  tell  a  number  of  stories,  some  of 
which  are  given,  farther  on  in  this  book.  But 
Lucy  did  not  learn  anything  more  about  her 
that  day,  nor  hear  any  of  her  stories.  But  she 
heard  one  story  that  afternoon  from  her  father. 
He  told  it  to  her,  while  he  was  sitting  in  a  chai 
6 


62 


LUCY'S    STORIES. 


in  the  yard  behind  the  house,  looking  towards 
Royal's  hen  coop.  It  was  the  story  of  the  Old 
Polander.  This  story  is  given  in  the  next 
chapter. 


THE    OLD    POLANDER.       I  63 

CHAPTER    V. 

STORY  OF  THE   OLD  POLANDER.       ■ 

Once  there  was  a  cockerel  called  the  old  Po- 
lander.  He  was  black.  He  had  a  little  tuft  of 
feathers  upon  his  head.  He  ate  corn.  He  walked 
about  among  his  hens  with  an  air  of  great  impor- 
tance and  dignity,  and  when  he  was  pleased,  he 
would  flap  his  wings  and  crow  aloud.  The  hens 
had  caps  of  feathers  upon  their  heads,  too. 

The  old  Polander  belonged  to  a  gentleman 
and  his  little  girl.  The  gentleman  was  going  to 
give  him  away  to  his  nephews,  -  the  little  girl's 
cousins,  — -  who  lived  hundreds  of  miles  off.  Her 
uncle  was  going  to  take  the  old  Polander  home 
jkith  him  in  the  steamboat  and  he  stage.  The 
little  girl  was  sorry  to  have  him  sent  away. 
They  were  going  to  send  him  in  a  box.  They 
caught  him,  and  put  him  in  the  box.  They  put 
three  hens  in  with  him  for  company.  Then  they 
began  to  nail  some  narrow  strips  of  wood  across 
the  top  of  the  box,  so  as  to  make  a  cage  of  it, 
and  keep  him  from  getting  out. 


64  lucy's  stories. 

While  they  were  nailing  on  the  strips,  he  gave 
a  sudden  spring  and  broke  away.  He  ran  off 
into  the  yard  ;  and,  when  he  found  he  was  at 
liberty,  he  began  to  step  about  with  great  satisfac- 
tion.    Then  he  flapped  his  wings  and  crowed. 

They  drove  him  into  a  shed,  and  caught  him 
again.  This  time  they  were  more  careful  in  put- 
ting him  into  the  box,  and  in  nailing  on  the  strips. 
The  little  girl  stood  by,  wishing  that  he  would  get 
out  again.  She  did  not  like  to  see  him  nailed  up 
in  a  cage.  And  she  did  not  like  to  have  him  go 
away. 

But  this  time  he  did  not  get  out.  They  nailed 
him  up  securely.  He  put  his  head  out  between 
the  wooden  bars,  but  the  interstices  were  too  nar- 
row for  him  to  get  his  body  through,  and  so  he 
soon  gave  up  the  idea  of  making  his  escape. 

They  put  some  corn  into  the  cage,  for  the  old 
Polander  and  his  hens  to  eat.  But  they  paid  no 
attention  to  it.  They  were  so  much  agitated  at 
being  shut  up  together  in  such  a  strange  place, 
that  they  had  no  appetite.  So  the  people  left 
the  corn  in  there  for  them  to  eat  on  the  way,  and 
they  put  the  cage  with  the  other  things,  that  were 
to  go  in  the  steamboat.  There  was  a  trunk; 
and  a  great  picture,  with  its  frame,  nailed  up  in  a 
flat  box ;  and  a  large  carpet  bag,  and  some  chairs. 


I 

THE    OLD    POLANDER.  G5 

All  these  things  were  left  in  the  yard,  waiting  for 
the  man  to  come  in  the  cart  to  take  them  away. 
The  poor  little  girl  was  sadly  troubled  to  think 
that  her  cockerel  was  going  away.  She  came 
and  offered  him  some  of  her  bread  through  the 
bars  of  his  prison ;  but  he  would  not  eat. 

Presently  the  cart  came;  and  the  man  lifted 
the  box  and  all  the  other  things  into  it,  and  then 
drove  away.  The  gentleman  had  told  him  to 
take  them  to  the  steamboat.  So  he  went  into 
die  city,  and  passed  along  through  the  streets,  till 
he  came  to  the  wharf,  where  the  steamboat  was. 
Then  he  took  off  the  cage,  and  the  picture  box, 
and  the  trunk,  and  the  carpet  bag,  and  the  chairs,, 
and  put  them  down  upon  the  wharf  by  the  side 
of  the  steamboat. 

By  and  by  the  gentleman  came  down  to  the 
wharf  to  see  if  his  things  had  been  carried  safely 
there.     He  found  them  all  there  upon  the  wharf. 

"*There  were  a  great  many  other  things  upon  the 
wharf.  There  were  barrels,  and  boxes,  and 
trunks,  and  other  things,  which  had  been  sent 
there  to  go  in  the  steamboat.     There  were  some 

'   men  there  putting  the  things  in.     They  called  it 

putting  the  things  an  board.     They  had  a  broad 

plank  ;    one  end  rested  on  the   wharf,  and  the 

other    end  was  down  in  the  steamboat;  and  so 

6>- 


66  lucy's  stories. 

they  could  slide  the  boxes  and  barrels  down  ; 
and  then  they  had  a  kind  of  a  wheelbarrow  to 
wheel  the  boxes  away  to  any  part  of  the  steam- 
boat where  they  wanted  to  put  them.  As  to  the 
barrels,  they  could  roll  them  along  easily,  without 
any  wheelbarrow. 

All  the  people  that  wished  to  send  anything  by 
the  steamboat,  had  to  pay  some  money.  There 
was  a  man  upon  the  wharf,  who  had  a  little  book 
and  a  pencil  in  his  hands ;  and  he  wrote  the 
names  of  the  things  as  fast  as  the  people  brought 
them,  and  told  them  how  much  to  pay.  He  told 
the  gentleman  that  he  must  pay  a  half  a  dollar  for 
his  articles.  So  the  gentleman  paid  him  half  a 
dollar,  and  he  wrote  it  down  in  his  book.  Then 
the  men  took  the  things,  and  slid  them  down  into 
the  steamboat.  They  put  the  cage  near  the 
middle  of  the  steamboat,  at  the  end  of  a  great 
pile  of  trunks,  which  reached  from  the  captain's 
office  away  to  the  main  shaft.  The  cage  came 
exactly  under  the  main  shaft. 

The  main  shaft  is  a  great  round  iron  beam, 
which  passes  across  the  steamboat  in  the  middle. 
The  great  paddle-wheels,  which  go  round,  and 
make  the  steamboat  move  through  the  water, 
are  fastened  to  the  ends  of  the  main  shaft.  Some 
part  of  the  steam  engine  takes  hold  of  the  main 


THE    OLD    POLANDER.  67 

shaft'  in  the  middle,  and  makes  it  go  round.  The 
main  shaft  was  not  moving  when  they  put  the 
cage  under  it,  because  the  boat  was  not  going 
then.  It  was  standing  still  at  the  wharf.  It  was 
not  time  yet  for  the  steamboat  to  sail.  It  would 
not  be  time  until  evening.  So  when  the  gentle- 
man saw  the  cage  put  safely  in  its  place,  under 
the  m?.in  shaft,  and  all  the  other  things  properly 
stowed  away,  he  went  back  to  the  city  to  wait 
until  evening,  when  the  boat  was  going  to  sail. 

When  the  evening  came,  he  returned  on  board 
the  boat.  He  found  a  great  many  people  there. 
He  went  to  the  end  of  the  great  pile  of  trunks  to 
see  the  old  Polander  and  his  hens.  They  were 
there  all  safe,  only  they  had  rubbed  off  some  of 
their  feathers.  The  cage  was  laid  down  upon 
its  side,  so  that  the  prisoners  could  look  out  a 
little  through  the  bars ;  though  there  was  not 
much  for  them  to  see.  There  were  a  good  many 
^feathers  lying  upon  the  deck  of  the  steamboat, 
and  also  some  of  the  corn  which  had  been  put  in 
for  them  to  eat.  The  cockerel  and  the  hens  had 
pushed  out  the  corn  and  the  feathers,  some  how 
or  other,  in  walking  about.  The  gentleman  put 
the  corn  back  into  the  cage,  but  they  did  not  eat. 
When  all  the  passengers  were  ready,  and  the 
last  bell  had  rung,  the  steamboat  sailed   away- 


68 

The  sun  went  down,  and  the  evening  came  on, 
and  they  lighted  lamps  all  over  the  steamboat. 
By  this  time  they  were  far  out  to  sea.  The  pas- 
sengers were  down  in  the  cabins,  reading  at  the 
tables,  or  talking,  or  eating  their  suppers—  all 
except  a  few  who  were  still  upon  the  deck. 
These  that  were  upon  the  deck  could  see  noth- 
ing, all  around  the  boat,  but  water  —  water  on 
every  side.  Only  now  and  then  they  could  see, 
at  a  great  distance,  a  little  star  of  light,  too  low 
down  to  be  a  star  of  die  sky.  It  was  a  light- 
house upon  the  land,  a  very  high  lighthouse, 
with  a  great  bright  light  in  the  top  of  it,  so  that 
the  men  in  the  ships  and  steamboats  might  know 
where  the  land  was.  But  though  the  lighthouse 
was  very  high,  and  the  light  in  the  top  of  it  was 
very  bright,  they  could  see  nothing  from  the 
steamboat  but  a  faint  star,  down  very  near  to  the 
horizon.  It  was  because  they  were  so  far  away 
from  it. 

At  length,  about  nine  o'clock,  the  passengers 
went  to  bed ;  and  while  they  were  sleeping,  the 
steamboat  went  ploughing  on  through  the  water, 
hour  after  hour,  all  the  night  long.  At  length, 
the  day  dawned  in  the  east,  and  the  light  of  it 
gleamed  in  a  little,  between  the  captain's  office 
and  the  ladies'  cabin.     As  soon  as  the  old  Po- 


THE    OLD    POLANDER.  69 

lander  saw  it,  he  set  up  a  loud  crow,  to  wake  his 
hens,  and  let  them  know  it  was  morning. 

The  gentleman  heard  him  crow.  "  Ah  !  " 
said  he,  "  the  old  cockerel  is  recovering  his  spirits. 
Perhaps  this  morning  he  will  have  some  appetite 
to  eat." 

So,  an  hour  or  two  after,  when  he  was  dressed, 
and  ready  for  his  breakfast,  he  went  and  borrowed 
a  tea-cup  from  the  forward  cabin,  and  filled  it 
with  water,  and  carried  it  to  the  cage,  to  give  the 
poor  imprisoned  birds  a  drink.  He  held  the  edge 
of  the  cup  up  between  the  bars  of  the  cage.  The 
interstices  were  so  narrow  that  he  could  not  get 
it  in  entirely.  He  looked  in  to  see  how  the  poor 
prisoners  fared.  They  were  crowded  in,  heads, 
tails,  legs,  and  wings,  all  mixed  together,  so  that 
they  could  not  get  at  the  cup  to  drink,  very  well. 

Presently,  one  hen  found  the  way  to  it,  and 
began  to  drink.  The  old  Polander's  head  was 
#ear;  but  he  was  so  polite  and  gentlemanly, 
that  he  would  not  take  any  until  all  his  hens  had 
been  supplied.  They  drank,  one  after  another; 
and  at  length  the  water  was  all  gone.  The  gen- 
tleman then  went  and  filled  the  cup  again,  and 
after  all  the  hens  had  drank,  the  rooster  drank 
himself,  and  then  crowed  to  express  his  satisfac- 
tion.    The  passengers  heard  him  crow,  and  won- 


TO 

dered  how  there  happened  to  be  a  cockerel  on 
board  the  steamboat. 

By  and  by,  the  steamboat  came  to  the  land. 
The  passengers  went  ashore,  and  rode  away  in 
various  stage-coaches  and  carriages.  They  put 
the  cage,  with  the  old  Polander  and  his  hens  in  it, 
upon  the  top  of  a  stage-coach  ;  while  the  gen- 
tleman who  had  the  care  of  them  rode  within. 
They  put  the  cage  down  upon  its  side,  so  that 
the  cockerel  and  his  hens  could  see  out,  and 
enjoy  the  prospect  of  the  houses  and  farms  along 
the  way.  When  they  stopped  at  the  taverns  to 
water  the  horses,  or  to  change  them,  the  boys 
gathered  around  to  see  the  strange  sight  of  a 
rooster  and  his  family  riding  in  the  stage;  and 
the  old  Polander  crowed  in  alternation  with  the 
tavern  rooster  in  the  barn  yard. 

At  one  time,  the  gentleman  got  some  oats  from 
a  bam,  and  threw  into  their  cage.  They  ate  the 
oats  with  the  greatest  eagerness,  —  all  except  the 
old  Polander,  who  waited  till  he  saw  that  all  his 
hens  were  well  supplied,  and  then  he  ate  as  fast 
as  they. 

At  night,  the  whole  party  reached  their  home. 
They  took  the  box  down  from  the  stage,  and 
carried  it  into  the  yard.  They  split  off  the  bars 
from  the  cage.     The  old  Polander  walked  out, 


THE    OLD    POLANDER. 


71 


and  his  hens  followed  him.  They  looked  around, 
surprised  and  bewildered,  for  a  kw  minutes,  and 
then  the  old  Polander  napped  his  wings  and 
crowed.  He  walked  about  among  his  hens  a 
minute,  with  a  majestic  air,  and,  seeing  that  they 
had  arrived  safe  at  the  end  of  their  journey,  with 
no  other  injury  than  that  their  caps  were  a  little 
tumbled,  he  crowed  again  louder  than  ever; 
and  they  all  went  to  work  immediately  catching 
grasshoppers  and  crickets  for  supper. 
This  is  a  true  story. 


72  lucy's  stories. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

THE   MOROCCO  BOOK. 

The  next  day,  when  Mis?  Anne  was  getting 
JLucy  ready  to  go  to  school,  she  told  ber  that  she 
had  found  out  something  about  Mary  J  a) 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  Why,  one  thing  is,  that  she  is  lame." 

"  O  no,"  said  Lucy,  "  she  is  not  lame.  She  is 
a  very  beautiful  girl  indeed." 

Lucy  did  not  know  exactly  what  Miss  Anne 
meant  by  lame ;  but  she  thought  it  was  some- 
thing unfavorable  in  regard  to  her  appearance, 
and  so  she  contradicted  it.  Lucy  was  right 
about  Mary  Jay's  countenance ;  for  it  was  really 
very  pleasing. 

"I  did  not  say  that  she  was  not  beautiful," 
said  Miss  Anne,  "  but  only  that  she  was  lame. 
That  means,  that  she  cannot  walk  very  well." 

"  Well,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  don't  believe  that  she 
is  lame." 

"  Did  you  see  her  walk  ? "  said  Miss  Anne. 

"  No,"  said  Lucy  ;  "  she  sat  still  all  the  time." 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK.  73 

"  Didn't  she  come  out  in  the  recess?"  asked 
Miss  Anne. 

"  No."  said  Lucy ;  "  but  that  was  because  she 
had  a  hard  sum  to  do,  and  not  because  she  was 
lame." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "you  will  see. 
Only,  if  she  is  lame,  you  must  be  sure  and  not 
laugh  at  her." 

"  O  no,  Miss  Anne,  I  am  sure  I  should  not 
laugh  at  her." 

"No,  I  think  you  would  not;  but  sometimes 
children  do,  and  so  I  thought  I  would  speak  to 
you  about  it." 

"'Well,"  said  Lucy,  "I  don't  believe  she  is 
lame  at  all ;  and  if  she  was,  I  am  sure  I  shouldn't 
laugh  at  her." 

So  saying,  Lucy  went  away  to  school.  She 
walked  along  the  road,  as  she  had  done  the 
morning  before,  only  now  she  was  alone.  The 
\\-ty  was  very  direct,  and  she  thought  that  she 
could  find  it  herself,  without  any  difficulty.  She 
did  not  walk  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  but  in  the 
path,  upon  the  bank,  by  the  side  of  it,  where  Ma- 
rielle  had  led  her. 

She  went  along  for  some  time,  without  meeting 
with  any  adventure,  until,  at  length,  she  came  to 
the  beginning  of  the  wall.     She  was  very  glad  to 


74  lucy's  stories. 

see  the  wall ;  for  this  proved  that  she  was  right, 
and  had  not  lost  her  way.  After  she  had  walked 
on  a  little  farther,  she  thought  she  heard  a  rustling 
among  the  branches  of  the  trees,  over  the  wall 
above  her  head ;  and  she  accordingly  looked  up. 

"  Lucy,"  said  a  gentle  little  voice  above  her. 

Lucy  looked  all  around  ;  and  presently  she  saw 
a  bright,  happy-looking  face,  peeping  between  the 
branches  of  some  small  trees,  which  were  pushed 
apart  by  a  pair  of  little  hands. 

"  Marielle,  is  that  you  ? "  said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marielle,  —  for  it  was  really  she, 
—  "I  climbed  up  here  to  watch  for  you." 

"  How  did  you  get  up  ? "  said  Lucy. 

"  O,  there  are  some  steps,"  said  Marielle. 

"  How  can  I  get  up  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  You  can't  get  up  from  the  outside,"  said  Ma- 
rielle, "  but  you  must  walk  along  to  the  door  gate, 
and  come  in  there." 

So  Lucy  walked  along  to  the  door  gate ;  but 
just  before  she  got  to  it,  it  opened,  and  Marielle 
came  out  to  meet  her. 

"O  Lucy,  we  have  got  a  secret,"  said  Ma- 
rielle. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  said  Lucy. 

Just  at  this  instant,  two  little  boys  came  round 
the  corner  of  the  house,  and  met  Lucy  and  Ma- 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK.  75 

nelle,  as  they  were  walking  along  towards  the 
door  which  led  to  the  school-room. 

"  We  have  put  it  in  the  gardener's  room,"  said 
one  of  them,  —  "the  teacher  said  we  might." 
The  boy  spoke  in  a  very  eager  tone,  but  in  a  sort 
of  a  loud  whisper,  as  if  he  was  very  much  inter- 
ested in  what  he  was  saying,  but  also  as  if  he 
was  afraid  that  somebody  would  hear. 

"  Hush ! "  said  the  other  boy,  looking  up. 
"She  will  hear  you." 

"Who  will  hear?"  said  Lucy.  Lucy  looked 
about  from  one  to  the  other,  very  much  perplexed 
at  all  this  mystery. 

"  Why,  Mary  Jay,"  said  one  of  the  boys  : 
"  the  window  is  open,  and  she  will  hear." 

''  What  is  the  secret  ? "  said  Lucy ;  "  do  tell  me." 
But  the  children  were  all  talking  together  so 
eagerly,  and  each  calling  upon  the  other  to  hush, 
that  Lucy  could  not  obtain  any  explanation  from 
any  of  them.  They  walked  along  to  the  door, 
and  went  in ;  but,  instead  of  going  up  stairs,  they 
went  to  the  door  of  a  room  below,  which  they 
said  was  the  gardener's  room.  Lucy  followed 
on  as  fast  as  she  could.  She  wanted  to  see  the 
secret  very  much. 

But  she  was  disappointed ;  for,  just  as  they 
were  opening  the  door  of  the  gardener's  room, 


76 


they  heard  a  noise  at  the  top  of  the  stairs ;  and 
they  immediately  began  to  exclaim,  all  together, 
"  Hush  !  hush  !  Mary  Jay  is  coming  —  she  is 
coming.  Shut  the  door  quick."  And  they 
pulled  the  door  to,  as  quick  as  possible,  and 
all  ran   away. 

It  turned  out,  however,  to  he  a  false  alarm  ;  for 
Mary  Jay  did  not  come.  But,  before  they  had 
time  to  go  back  again  to  the  door  of  the  garden- 
er's room,  the  bell  rang,  and  they  all  had  to  go  up 
stairs  to  the  school-room. 

When  Lucy  went  into  the  school-room,  Mary 
Jay  was  sitting  at  her  seat,  looking  very  innocent ; 
and  she  seemed  to  be  perfectly  unconscious  of  all 
the  secrets  and  plots  which  were  going  on  below. 
Lucy  was  confirmed  in  her  opinion  that  she  was 
not  lame;  for,  although  she  was  still  sitting  in 
her  seat,  yet  Lucy  was  sure  she  did  not  hole  as 
if  she  was  lame. 

However,  the  question  was  soon  settled;  for, 
about  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  the  teacher 
asked  Mary  Jay  if  she  would  be  kind  enough 
to  hear  the  third  class  read ;  and  Lucy  immedi- 
ately looked  up  to  see  what  she  would  do.  Two 
or  three  children,  that  belonged  to  the  third  class, 
began  to  go  out  of  the  room,  to  a  seat  which  was 
placed  in  the  entry,    so  that  the   reading  might 


THE    MOBOCCO    BOOK.  77 

not  disturb  the  other  scholars.  Lucy  saw  them 
going  out,  and  then  she  looked  back  again  to- 

DO:'  O 

wards  Mary  Jay.  To  her  great  surprise,  she  saw 
that  she  was  just  putting  a  crutch  under  her  right 
arm,  as  she  was  standing  up  by  the  side  of  her 
desk.  There  was  a  little  boy  at  her  side,  ready 
to  take  hold  of  her  left  hand.  She  then  walked 
slowly  across  the  floor,  making  no  noise,  but  lean- 
ing at  every  step  upon  her  crutch,  and  scarcely 
touching  her  right  foot  to  the  floor.  Poor  Mary 
Jay  was  very  lame  indeed. 

"  Well,"  thought  Lucy  to  herself,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  as  Mary  Jay  disappeared,  and  the  door 
closed,  "  at  any  rate,  I  shall  never  laugh  at  her." 

At  the  recess  that  day,  the  children  all  gathered 
around  Mary  Jay's  desk,  and  said  that  she  must 
come  down.  She  said  that  she  must  stay  and  do 
her  sums  ;  but  the  children  said  no,  she  must  come 
down.  They  had  a  very  particular  reason.  Mary 
My  asked  them  what  the  reason  was ;  but  they 
would  not  tell  her,  but  only  insisted  that  she  must 
come  down.  One  of  the  girls  got  her  cratch,  and 
handed  it  to  her ;  and  at  length  she  arose,  put  on 
her  bonnet,  took  her  crutch,  and  walked  along, 
—  some  of  the  children  going  with  her,  and  some 
scampering  on  before,  with  every  appearance  of 
exultation  and  delight. 


78  lucy's  stories. 

Lucy  followed  on  with  the  others ;  and  when 
she  got  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  she  saw  two  or 
three  of  the  children  standing  with  their  backs 
against  the  door  of  the  gardener's  room,  as  if  to 
prevent  any  body  from  going  in.  The  children 
that  were  walking  with  Mary  Jay,  led  her  by, 
and  out  at  the  door. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  "  said 
she. 

"O,  you'll  see,"  said  Marielle ;  "  you  must  come 
along  out  here." 

They  led  Mary  Jay  round  the  corner  of  the 
building,  to  a  seat  under  a  tree,  close  to  the  walk  ; 
and  then  they  called  aloud  to  those  who  had  been 
left  at  the  door  of  the  gardener's  room  to  come. 
Lucy  wondered  what  they  were  going  to  bring. 
She  ran  back  round  the  corner  to  look.  She 
found  that  two  or  three  boys,  who  belonged  to 
the  school,  were  just  bringing  down,  over  the 
steps,  a  little  carriage.  It  had  four  good,  strong 
wheels,  and  a  good  seat  above  them,  just  big 
enough  for  Mary  Jay  to  sit  in.  For  Lucy  had 
made  a  great  mistake  in  estimating  her  age  at 
forty.     The  truth  was,  that  she  was  just  sixteen. 

They  drew  the  chaise  up  before  the  seat  where 
Mary  Jay  was  sitting,  and  told  her  that  she  must 
get  in 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK.  79 

"  0  no,"  said  Mary  Jay,  "  I  can't  get  in.  It 
is  a  beautiful  little  carriage,  but  it  is  not  strong 
enough  to  bear  me." 

"  O  yes,  it  will  bear  you,"  said  a  boy  named 
George,  who  was  considerably  bigger  than  Lucy; 
"my  father  said  it  would  bear  any  body  that 
could  get  into  it.     He  got  into  it  himself." 

"  Is  it  your  carriage,  George  ? "  said  Mary  Jay. 

"  Yes,"  said  George ;  "  and  I  brought  it  for 
you  to  ride  in.  We  want  to  draw  you  down  to 
the  summer-house." 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you,"  said  Mary  Jay  ;  "  but  I  can't  let  you  draw 
me  about.  I  can  walk  very  well  with  my 
crutch." 

"No,"  said  the  children,  "you  must  ride  ;  you 
must  get  in  and  ride." 

And  so  saying,  they  took  hold  of  Mary  Jay,  as 
if  they  were  going  to  put  her  in  by  force  ;  one  of 
the  children  took  hold  of  her  crutch  gently,  and 
said  he  was  going  to  run  away  with  it,  and  then 
she  would  have  to  ride. 

^  Mary  Jay  said,  "  No,  you  must  not  have  my 
crutch,  for  I  want  that  to  help  me  get  in  with." 
And  she  rose  from  her  seat,  and  seemed  half 
inclined  to  go,  but  yet  not  quite  decided. 


80  lucy's  stories. 

"  Are  you  sure  it  is  strong  enough,  George  ? " 
said  she. 

"  O  yes,"  said  George,  "  it  is  on  irons  ;  see," 
added  he,  pointing  to  the  irons  which  supported 
the  body  of  the  chaise. 

"  Come,  jump  in,  Mary  Jay,"  said  a  pleasant 
voice  from  above  them. 

The  children  looked  up,  and  saw  that  if  was 
the  teacher,  who  was  looking  out  the  window. 
"  Come,  jump  in,"  said  she ;  "  I  want  to  see  the 
ride." 

Being  thus  urged  by  the  scholars,  and  en- 
couraged by  the  teacher,  Mary  Jay  cautiously 
mounted  the  carriage,  and  took  her  seat.  George 
took  hold  of  the  pole ;  for  there  was  a  pole  to  the 
carriage,  with  a  cross  piece  at  the  end  of  it,  instead 
of  shafts.  Chaises,  and  carriages  which  are  in- 
tended for  one  horse,  have  shafts;  while  those 
which  are  to  be  drawn  by  two  or  four,  have  a 
pole ;  and  so  one  horse  stands  upon  one  side  of 
the  pole,  and  the  other  upon  the  other  side. 
These  two  horses  are  called  the  pole  horses. 
Then,  if  there  are  any  more  horses  required, 
they  are  placed  before  the  others,  and  are  called 
leaders. 

It  had  been  agreed  before,  among  the  children, 
that  George,  and  another  boy  about  as  large  as  he, 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK.  81 

should  be  the  pole  horses,  and  two  others,  rather 
smaller,  should  be  the  leaders.  There  were  only 
four  boys  belonging  to  the  school.  The}'  thought 
it  was  more  suitable  that  the  boys  should  be 
the  horses,  to  draw  Mary  Jay  ;  but  then  they 
agreed  that  Marielle  should  take  hold  behind,  and 
push  a  little,  which  would  make  it  easier  to  draw. 
Thus  arranged,  the  carriage  began  to  move  on. 

"  Slowly,  now,"  said  Mary  Jay.  "  Gently, — 
gently." 

"  Yes,"  said  George,  "  we  will  go  gently." 

The  boys  walked  along,  taking  a  turn  by  a 
circular  walk  which  led  around  a  pump  that  was 
placed  in  a  little  alcove,  for  watering  the  garden. 
They  came  gradually  round  to  the  head  of  a 
broad  walk,  which  extended  off  to  a  great  dis- 
tance among  the  trees.  Here  the  horses  began 
to  trot  gently ;  and  Mary  Jay,  who  now  seemed 
to  feel  more  secure,  and  to  perceive  that  the  car^ 
riage  was  really  a  good,  strong  one,  began  to 
chirup  a  little  to  her  horses,  to  make  them  go 
faster. 

The  horses  were  quite  pleased  with  this,  for 
they  were  horses  of  spirit,  and  were  impatient  to- 
go  faster ;  so  they  began  to  trot  along  the  hard,, 
smooth  walk,  with  considerable  speed.  Marielle 
pushed  behind,  and  Jane  and  Lucy,  and  two  or 


82  lucy's  stories. 

three  other  small  children,  ran  after  the  carriage, 
doing  all  they  could  to  keep  up.  Thus  they 
travelled  about,  as  long  as  the  recess  lasted,  all 
over  the  garden  ;  for  when  Mary  Jay  was  with 
them,  they  had  permission  to  go  to  any  part  of  it 
they  pleased. 

The  recess  was  generally  twenty  minutes, — 
because,  as  there  was  only  one  school  every  day, 
it  was  about  four  hours  and  a  half  long  ;  and  so 
the  teacher  thought  that  they  ought  to  have  a 
good  long  recess. 

When  the  recess  was  ended,  they  drew  Mary 
Jay  bade  to  the  school-room,  and  told  her  that 
to-morrow  they  were  going  to  have  a  story  out  of 
the  Morocco  Book. 

"  The  Morocco  Book  ? "  said  Lucy  to  Marielle ; 
*  what  is  the  Morocco  Book  ?  " 

"To-morrow  is  not  Wednesday,  is  it?"  said 
George. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marielle. 

"Well,"  said  Lucy,  "what  of  it,  if  it  is? 
What  happens  Wednesday  ? " 

"  Why,  we  have  a  drawing  school,"  said  Ma- 
rielle, "  in  the  afternoon.  We  all  come  to  draw, 
—  only  Mary  Jay  stays  at  noon.  And  then, 
after  the  drawing,  we  always  have  an  hour  to  play 
in  the  garden." 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK.  83 

There  was  no  more  time  for  explanations ;  for 
now  they  reached  the  school-room,  and  Mary 
Jay  got  out  of  the  little  carriage,  and  they  all 
went  in. 

At  the  close  of  the  school,  Lucy  asked  the 
teacher  if  she  might  come  to  the  drawing  school, 
the  next  day.  The  teacher  said  that  she  was 
too  young  to  draw  much ;  but  that  if  she  would 
sit  still,  and  draw  upon  the  slate,  and  not  disturb 
the  others,  she  might  come.  Lucy  made  abun- 
dance of  promises  ;  and  when  she  went  home  and 
told  her  mother,  it  was  agreed  that  she  should  go. 

After  the  drawing  school,  the  next  day,  the 
children  brought  the  chaise  to  the  door,  and  took 
Mary  Jay  in.  She  laid  her  crutch  down  by  her 
side ;  and  Lucy  observed  that  she  had  a  large 
book,  with  morocco  covers,  in  her  lap. 

"  Is  that  the  Morocco  Book  ? "  said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marielle ;  "  it  is  full  of  stories  and 
pictures." 

When  they  reached  the  lower  part  of  the  gar- 
den, Mary  Jay  got  out  of  the  carnage,  and  the 
whole  party  seated  themselves  on  some  little  seats 
in  an  arbor.  When  all  were  ready,  Mary  Jay 
opened  the  Morocco  Book,  and  read  them  the  fol- 
lowing story. 


84  lucy's  stories. 


CHAPTER    VII. 
THE    STORY   OF   ROCKSY. 

FROM    MARY     JAy's     MOROCCO     BOOK. 

Rocksy  lived  with  her  mother  in  a  small  house, 
which  was  built  in  a  lonely  place  upon  the  sea- 
shore. She  thought  that  the  reason  why  her 
name  was  Rocksy,  was  because  she  lived  among 
the  rocks;  but  this  was  not  the  reason.  Her 
name  was  at  first  Roxanna,  and  they  shortened 
it  to  Rocksy. 

Her  father  was  a  fisherman.  He  had  a  boat, 
which  he  kept  tied  to  a  stake  upon  the  beach, 
when  he  was  not  out  in  it  upon  the  water,  fishing. 
Rocksy  used  to  get  into  this  boat,  and  play  go  a- 
fishing.  It  was  tied  to  the  stake,  so  that  it  could 
not  get  away ;  but  she  could  push  it  a  little  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  when  the  tide  was  just  high 
enough  to  float  it.  When  she  could  not  play  in 
her  father's  boat,  she  used  sometimes  to  play  go 
a-fishing  in  the  house ;  and  then  her  fishing  boat 
was  her  little  brother's  cradle. 


THE    STORY    OF    ROCKSY.  85 

For  Rocksy  had  a  little  brother,  just  big 
enough  to  creep.  She  used  to  take  care  of  him, 
and  rock  him  in  his  cradle.  Sometimes  she 
would  carry  him  down  to  the  beach,  when  it  was 
sunny,  and  put  him  on  the  sand,  and  let  him  sit 
there  and  see  her  throw  pebbles  into  the  water. 

One  day,  Rocksy's  father  went  a-fishing.  It 
was  pleasant  weather  in  the  morning,  when  he 
went ;  but  at  noon  it  became  cloudy^  and  in  the 
afternoon  the  wind  began  to  blow,  and  it  rained. 
Rocksy  was  sorry  for  the  storm,  because  she 
wanted  to  go  down  to  the  beach  that  afternoon. 
Her  mother  was  sorry,  because  she  was  afraid  that 
her  husband  would  be  cast  away. 

Rocksy  asked  her  mother  to  let  her  play  go  a 
fishing  in  the  cradle.  Her  mother  said  yes  ;  and 
so  she  put  her  little  brother  in  at  the  head  of  the 
cradle,  while"  she  sat  at  the  foot  of  it,  and  began 
to  rock,  and  to  play  that  she  was  sailing  out  to 
sea.  Sometimes  she  would  make  believe  that 
there  was  a  great  storm  ;  and  then  she  would  rock 
the  cradle  violently,  and  give  orders  to  her  little 
Jprother,  whom  she  called  her  sailor.  Then,  at 
length,  the  storm  would  subside,  and  she  would 
let  the  cradle  be  still ;  and  then  she  would  lean 
over  the  side  of  it,  and  pretend  that  she  was 
fishing. 

8 


86 


She  was  playing  so  when  it  began  to  grow 
dark.  Her  mother  looked  very  anxious,  and 
went  several  times  to  look  out  at  the   window 

"Now,  Jack,"  said  Rocksy,  —  for  when  she 
was  playing  that  the  baby  was  her  sailor,  she 
always  called  him  Jack,  —  "  Now,  Jack,  1  feel  a 
bite.  Don't  say  a  word,  Jack,  and  I'll  pull  up  a 
salmon." 

Now,  the  baby  did  not  understand  a  single 
word  about  "  feeling  a  bite,"  or  "  pulling  up  a 
salmon,"  but  he  liked  to  hear  Rocksy  talk ;  and 
so  he  sat  still  in  the  head  of  the  cradle,  and 
listened  with  every  appearance  of  satisfaction  and 
pleasure. 

"  Now,  Jack,  let  out  the  rope  a  little.  —  Pay 
away,  Jack ;   pay  away." 

Here  Rocksy's  mother  went  and  looked  out 
the  window,  and  said,  with  a  deep  sigh, 

"  O  dear  me !  how  it  storms  1 " 

"  I've  got  another  fish,  Jack,"  continued  Rock- 
sy ;  "  here  he  comes  ;  it  is  a  mackerel,  —  or  else 
a  perch.     I  don't  know  but  that  it  is  a  perch." 

Her  mother  came  back  to  her  work ;  but  pretty 
soon  she  went  to  the  window  again. 

"  Now,  Jack,  there  are  no  more  fishes  here," 
said  Rocksy ;  "  we'll  sail  away  to  another  place." 
And   so   she   began    to    rock    the    cradle,   and 


THE    STORY    OF    ROCKSY.  87 

make  believe  sail  away.  She  looked  up,  at  the 
same  time,  and  saw  her  mother  looking  out  the 
window  very  earnestly,  with  her  hands  on  each 
side  of  her  face,  to  shade  her  eyes  from  the  light 
of  the  fire,  which  was  shining  in  the  room. 

"What  are  you  looking  at,  mother?"  said 
Rocksy. 

"  O,  it's  dreadfully  dark  ! "  said  her  mother. 
"  Why  don't  he  come  ? " 

She  said  this  to  herself;  for  she  did  not  notice 
that  Rocksy  had  spoken  to  her. 

Rocksy  stopped  the  cradle  a  moment,  and 
looked   at   her   mother. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  think  he  will  be 
cast  away ;  he  said  he  was  not  afraid  of  the 
storms." 

Her  mother  did  not  answer,  but  continued 
gazing  out  of  the  window.  The  baby,  finding 
diat  the  play  was  suspended,  began  to  be  un- 
easy;   and  so  Rocksy  said, 

"  Well,  well,  Jack,  we'll  sail  along." 

So  she  began  to  rock  the  cradle  violently,  pre- 
tending that  they  were  out  in  a  terrible  storm. 
*  "  O  Jack,"  said  she,  "  the  winds  and  waves 
are  terrible.  It  is  a  hurricane  :  we  shall  upset ; 
I  verily  believe  we  shall  upset." 

And,  true  enough,  they  did  upset ;  for  Rocksy 


pushed  the  motion  of  the  cradle  so  far  as  to  lose 
its  balance ;  and  over  it  went  forwards,  pitching 
both  herself  and  her  brother  out  upon  the  floor. 

Rocksy  was  hurt,  and  the  baby  was  frightened  ; 
so  they  both  cried.  Their  mother  came  and 
took  them  up,  and  soothed  and  quieted  them. 
Then  she  undressed  the  child,  and  put  him  in  the 
cradle  to  go  to  sleep,  and  stationed  Rocksy  by 
his  side,  to  rock  him. 

By  and  by,  her  mother  had  got  the  supper  all 
ready  by  the  fire,  and  she  said  she  was  going  to 
put  on  her  cloak,  and  go  down  to  the  shore,  to  see 
if  she  could  hear  anything  of  her  husband. 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  go  with  you,  mother," 
said  Rocksy. 

"  O  no,"  said  her  mother.  "  You  must  not 
go.  I  want  you  to  stay  and  rock  the  cradle  till 
I  come  back.     I  shall  not  be  gone  long." 

But  she  was  gone  long,  —  very  long. 

Rocksy  waited  patiently  at  the  cradle  until 
her  little  brother  was  asleep,  and  then  she  thought 
it  was  not  worth  while  to  rock  him  any  longer ; 
but  still,  as  her  mother  had  told  her  to  rock  him 
until  she  came  back,  she  would  not  leave  her 
post.  By  and  by,  she  began  to  be  very  sleepy 
herself;  and  she  said,  "  O,  I  do  wish  my  mother 
would  come, — or  else  my  father."      But  they 


THE    STORY    OF    ROCKSY.  89 

did  not  either  of  them  come  for  a  long  time. 
The  reason  was  this  : 

When  Rocksy's  mother  went  out,  she  found 
that  the  wind  and  the  rain  were  terrible.  It  was 
pretty  dark,  too,  but  not  so  dark  as  it  seemed  to 
be  when  she  looked  out  at  the  window.  It  gen- 
erally looks  darker  out  of  doors,  when  we  look 
out  of  the  window  in  the  evening,  than  it  really 
is.  Rocksy's  mother  knew  her  way  down  to  the 
shore  very  well.  There  was  a  path  ;  and,  besides, 
she  could  hear  the  sea  roaring,  and  she  knew,  by 
that,  which  way  to  go. 

When  she  got  to  the  beach,  she  listened ;  but 
she  could  not  hear  anything  but  the  noise  of  the 
winds  and  the  waves.  She  then  thought  she 
would  go  down  on  the  Point.  The  Point  was  a 
ledge  of  rocks  which  extended  out  into  the  sea, 
and  sheltered  the  water  which  was  near  the 
beach.  There  were  rocks  and  breakers  out  at 
the  end  of  it.  She  was  afraid  that  her  husband's 
boat  was  dashed  upon  the  rocks  and  breakers. 
There  was  a  path  which  led  down  to  the  Point. 
It  was  a  pretty  long  walk ;  but  she  went  on  per- 
se veringly  until  she  got  to  the  extremity  of  it. 
The  winds  roared,  and  the  waves  dashed  against 
the  rocks  dreadfully.  She  listened,  but  she  could 
not  hear  anything  of  her  husband.  She  wished 
8*  * 


90  lucy's  stories. 

that  she  had  a  match  and  some  wood,  to  build  a 
great  fire  on  the  rocks,  so  that  her  husband 
might  see  it,  and  thus  find  his  way  in  from 
the  sea. 

Presently  she  thought  she  must  go  back  and 
take  care  of  her  children.  So  she  turned  around 
towards  the  shore,  and  walked  along  the  path. 
She  walked  on  until  she  came  to  a  low  place, 
where  the  path  went  across  a  narrow  neck  of 
land.  She  found  that  the  water  had  risen  and 
overflowed  this  place.  The  storm  had  made  the 
water  rise  very  high.  She  had  never  known  the 
path  to  be  ove:  flowed  by  the  water  before.  She 
was  very  much  frightened.  She  could  not  get 
back  to  her  children,  and  she  did  not  know  what 
she  should  do. 

She  had  to  stay  here  many  hours.  She  got 
into  a  sheltered  place  among  the  rocks,  where 
she  was  not  much  exposed  to  the  wind  and  rain. 
Here  she  waited  for  the  water  to  go  down ;  but 
it  only  rose  higher  and  higher. 

She  thought  the  storm  was  abating ;  but  it 
was  not  abating.  The  reason  why  she  thought 
it  was  abating  was,  that  she  was  upon  the  shel- 
tered side  of  the  Point,  and  under  the  shelter  of 
the  rocks,  besides.  The  water  was  pretty  smooth 
near  her  ;  but  around  upon  the  other  side  of  the 


THE    STORY    OF    ROCKSY.  91 

Point,  it  roared  and  dashed  upon  the  rocks  ter- 
rifically. So  the  storch  continued,  and  the  tide 
was  rising ;  and  both  together  kept  the  water  so 
high,  that  Rocksy's  mother  could  not  get  home. 

By  and  by,  about  midnight,  she  thougnt  she 
heard  a  rattling  noise.  It  sounded  like  the  rat- 
tling of  a  rope.  Then  she  thought  she  heard  the 
sound  of  oars.  She  started  up.  She  thought 
that  perhaps  it  was  her  husband  coming  home. 
She  called  aloud  to  him.  He  answered.  Then 
she  knew  it  was  her  husband.  He  had  just  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  in  to  the  land.  He  was  very 
much  surprised  to  find  her  there.  She  told  him 
that  she  had  come  down  to  the  rocks  to  look  for 
him,  and  now  she  could  not  get  back,  because 
the  water  was  so  high.  So  he  brought  his  boat 
up  to  the  rocks  where  she  was  standing,  and  took 
her  in.  Then  he  carried  her  safe  to  the  landing- 
place,  and  they  both  got  out  and  went  up  to  the 
house,  almost  exhausted,  and  wet  with  the  rain. 

They  found  both  the  children  asleep.  The 
baby  was  in  his  cradle,  where  they  had  left  him ; 
and  Rocksy  had  sunk  down  upon  the  floor,  with 
her  head  upon  a  little  cricket,  and  one  hand  still 
upon  the  cradle.  She  had  rocked  her  brother  as 
long  as  she  could  possibly  keep  awake ;  and  even 


92  lucy's  stories. 

when  she  went  to  sleep,  she  did  not  take  away 
her  hand. 

"  Is  that  the  end  ?  "  said  several  voices  at  once, 
when  Mary  Jay  stopped  reading. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary  Jay,  "  that  is  the  end." 

"  Is  there  any  picture  ? "  asked  Jane. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mary  Jay,  "  two." 

The  children  all  gathered  up  around  Mary  Jay 
to  see.  She  spread  open  the  great  book  in  her 
lap,  and  showed  them  the  pictures.  The  first 
was  a  picture  of  the  shore,  with  the  fisherman's 
house  upon  it,  and  the  boats  fastened  in  their 
places.  Rocksy  and  the  baby  were  playing 
upon   the   beach. 

Lucy  had  supposed  that  the  book  was  a  printed 
book,  while  Mary  Jay  was  reading ;  but  while 
she  was  looking  at  the  picture,  she  found  that  it 
was  written  with  a  pen.  The  picture,  too,  was 
not  a  printed  picture ;  it  was  painted,  —  in  beauti- 
ful colors. 

After  the  children  had  looked  at  this  picture 
long  enough,  Mary  Jay  turned  over  the  leaf,  and 
showed  them  another.  It  was  a  view  of  the  in- 
terior of  the  fisherman's  cottage  at  night.  It 
looked  dark,  only  there  was  a  little  blaze  of  fire 


THE    STORY    OF    ROCKSY. 


93 


upon  the  hearth,  which  flashed  about  the  room. 
Rocksy  was  asleep,  with  her  head  upon  the  crick- 
et and  her  hand  upon  the  cradle 

The  children  looked  on  a  moment  in  silence; 
and  at  length  Mary  Jay  said, 

"Was   not  she  a   good,   faithful,   trustworthy 

gW?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  all  the  children. 


94 


CHAPTER    VIII. 
ROYAL'S  STORY. 

One  day,  when  Lucy  was  about  five  years  old, 
she  was  sick.  She  was  not  very  sick,  —  only  a 
little  sick,  just  so  that  they  could  not  let  her  go 
out  of  doors. 

Lucy  looked  out  of  the  window  for  some  time, 
to  see  them  get  in  the  large  yellow  pumpkins 
from  the  garden.  Then  she  played  with  her 
picture-books  a  little  while.  After  that,  she  did 
not  know  what  to  do.  She  came  and  stood  by 
her  mother,  who  was  sewing. 

And  she  said,  "  Mother,  I  wish  I  knew  what 
to  do." 

And  her  mother  said,  "  I  think  you  had  better 
lie  down  upon  the  sofa  a  little  while,  and  go  to 
sleep."  But  Lucy  said,  "  O  mother,  I  am  not 
sleepy ;  I  am  only  tired  of  not  having  anything 
to  do." 

Then  her  mother  told  her  that,  if  she  were  to 
lie  down  upon  the  sofa,  she  would  probably  go  to 


royal's  story.  95 

sleep  after  a  little  while,  and  then,  when  she 
waked  up  afterwards,  she  would  feel  better. 

So  her  mother  went  and  brought  a  pillow,  and 
put  it  upon  the  sofa,  and  laid  Lucy  down,  with 
her  head  upon  the  pillow. 

Then  her  mother  said  that  she  would  come  and 
sit  near  her  while  she  went  to  sleep ;  and  she 
brought  her  chair  up  near  to  the  sofa,  and  put  her 
work-basket  upon  the  sofa,  next  to  Lucy's  feet. 
Then  she  told  Lucy  to  shut  her  eyes  and  lie  still, 
and  that  she  would  probably  soon  go  to  sleep. 

So  Lucy  shut  her  eyes  ;  but  she  could  not 
keep  them  shut  very  still.  Her  eyelids  quivered 
a  little,  because  she  was  not  sleepy.  It  was  hard 
for  her  to  keep  them  shut.  Presently  she  opened 
her  eyes  a  little,  just  to  see  whether  her  mother 
had  gone  away.  But  her  mother  was  sitting  still 
close  by  her  side. 

A  few  minutes  after  this,  she  opened  her  eyes 
wide,  and  wanted  her  mother  to  tell  her  a  story, 
while  she  was  going  to  sleep ;  but  her  mother  said 
no.  She  wanted  her  to  lie  perfectly  still,  and  go 
to  sleep  in  silence. 

Presently  Lucy  said,  "  Mother,  I  can  keep  my 
eyes  shut  pretty  well  now."  Her  mother  did  not 
answer,  but  she  looked  at  Lucy's  eyes,  and  ob- 
served that  the  quivering  of  the  eyelids  had  ceased. 


96  lucy's  stories. 

Lucy  began  to  like  to  lie  still  upon  the  sofa.  She 
felt  that  she  was  resting  beautifully.  A  very 
pleasant  feeling  of  forgetfulness  seemed  to  come 
over  her.  Instead  of  wishing  to  get  up,  she 
began  to  wish  not  to  be  disturbed  ;  her  mind 
wandered  ;  her  thoughts  seemed  to  float  away ; 
and  she  gradually  sank  into  forgetfulness  and 
slumber. 

She  did  not  awake  until  more  than  an  hour 
afterwards.  But  she  did  not  know  that  any  time 
had  passed ;  for  when  children  are  asleep,  they 
are  not  often  conscious  of  the  lapse  of  time. 
When  Lucy  opened  her  eyes,  she  saw  her  mother 
sitting  before  the  sofa,  sewing,  just  as  she  had 
been  when  she  lay  down ;  and  just  beyond  was 
Lucy's  little  table,  with  a  large,  shallow  tin  pan 
on  it.     Lucy  wondered  what  it  could  be. 

She  asked  her  mother  what  was  in  that  tin  pan. 
Her  mother  told  her  it  was  soap  and  water. 

"  And  what  is  it  for  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"It  is  for  you  to  blow  bubbles  with,  if  ycu 
would  like  it,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Well,"  said  Lucy  ;  and  she  began  to  get  up, 
very  much  pleased.  Then  she  asked  her  mother 
how  the  pan  and  the  table   came  to  be  there. 

"I  brought  it  here  while  you  were  asleep," 
said  her  mother. 


97 


"  Why,  mother !  "  said  Lucy ;  "  have  I  been 
asleep  ? " 

Her  mother  told  her  that  she  had  been  asleep 
more  than  an  hour.  ♦ 

Lucy  was  much  surprised  to  hear  this ;  and  she 
got  up  immediately  to  blow  her  bubbles.  She 
found  a  pipe  in  the  pan,  the  handle  resting  upon 
the  side. 

Lucy  enjoyed  herself  very  much  blowing  the 
bubbles.  Her  mother  showed  her  how  to  shake 
them  off  from  the  pipe,  so  as  to  let  them  sail 
through  the  air.  After  a  little  practice,  Lucy 
succeeded  very  well  in  liberating  them  from  then 
attachment  to  the  pipe.  When  they  fell  upon 
the  carpet,  Lucy  would  blow  them  along  with  hei 
breath  ;  and,  after  she  got  tired  of  blowing  in  that 
way,  she  asked  her  mother  to  let  her  have  the 
bellows  to  blow  them  with.  This  plan  succeeded 
finely.  She  could  blow  them  along  very  easily 
with  the  bellows.  Sometimes  she  would  get  three 
or  four  bubbles  at  a  time  upon  the  carpet,  and 
then,  by  giving  them  a  good  puff  with  the  bel- 
lows, she  would  make  them  roll  off  together  in 
all  directions. 

Just  at  this  time,  Lucy's  brother  Royal  came 
in.  Royal  was  a  pretty  good  boy,  only  he  was 
9 


98  lucy's  stories. 

sometimes  a  little  rough  with  his  sister.  This  is 
a  very  common  fault  among  boys. 

"  Ah,  Lucy,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  camo 
in.  "  what  have  yoi*  got  now  ?  Let  me  have  the 
pipe  ;  I'll  show  you  how  to  blow." 

Lucy  was  just  dipping  her  pipe  into  the  pan, 
to  blow  a  new  bubble  ;  but  she  said  no,  she  wanted 
to  blow,  herself. 

Royal  came  up,  and  took  hold  of  the  pipe,  as 
if  he  was  going  to  take  it  out  of  her  hands,  and 
said, 

"Just  a  minute,  Lucy.  Let  me  have  it  a 
minute,  and  I'll  blow  you  a  bubble  as  big  as  your 
head." 

"  No,"  said  Lucy,  clinging  to  the  pipe. 

"  And  all  full  of  rainbows,"  persisted  Royal. 

"  No,"  said  Lucy ;  "  I  want  it  myself." 

Royal  did  not  consider  that  Lucy's  enjoyment 
did  not  consist  in  the  mere  size  and  colors  of  the 
bubbles,  but  in  the  pleasure  of  blowing  them 
herself. 

Just  at  this  time,  Lucy's  mother  turned  around, 
and  said, 

"  Royal,  you  must  not  disturb  Lucy." 

"  Why,  mother,"  said  Royal,  "  I  only  want  to 
d!o\^  her  a  golden  ball." 


101 


Royal  used  to  call  the  bubbles  which  were  so 
large  as  to  show  a  great  variety  of  splendid  col- 
ors, golden  balls, 

u  No,"  said  his  mother ;  "  I  got  those  things 
for  Lucy's  amusement,  and  you  must  let  her  do 
with  them  just  what  she  pleases." 

So  Royal  let  go  of  the  pipe,  and  Lucy  went 
on  blowing. 

"  I'll  show  you  how  I  blow  it  along  the  car- 
pet," said  Lucy,  when  she  stopped  a  moment,  to 
take  breath. 

"  Let  me  blow  it,"  said  Royal. 

Rut  Lucy  wanted  to  blow  it  herself.  So  she 
shook  off  the  bubble,  and  when  it  had  fallen  to 
the  floor,  she  took  up  the  bellows,  and  gav^it  a 
little  puff,  which  set  it  a  rolling  along  towards 
Royal.  It  struck  his  foot,  and  then  broke  and 
disappeared,  at  which  both  Royal  and  Lucy 
laughed  aloud,  with  great  appearance  of  delight. 

At  length,  Lucy  let  Royal  take  the  bellows, 
while  she  kept  the  pipe  ;  and  so  he  would  blow 
the  bubbles  along  the  carpet,  as  fast  as  Lucy 
dropped  them  down.  By-and-by,  he  contrived 
to  blow  the  bubbles  before  they  touched  the  floor ; 
anfl  at  last  he  had  a  way  of  holding  the  bellows 
under  them,  and  blowing  them  up  into  the  air. 
When  they  found  they  could  succeed  in  ma- 
9* 


L02  lucy's   stories. 

king  the  bubbles  go  up,  they  kept  continually 
calling  upon  their  mother  to  look.  It  was,  "  O 
see,  mother,  see  !  "  and  "  Look  !  look  quick  ! 
mother,  look !  "  very  frequently  indeed. 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  their  mother.  "  They  go 
beautifully,  only  I  should  think  you  would  be 
very  tired  of  holding  the  bellows  in  such  a  posi- 
tion." 

"  I  am,  mother,  —  they  are  such  heavy  bel- 
lows. I  should  think  the  bubbles  might  go  up  of 
themselves." 

"  If  you  could  find  a  place  where  there  is  a 
natural  current  of  air  upwards,  and  could  shake 
off  your  bubbles  there,  they  would  go  up  of  them- 
selves." 

Here  Royal  put  down  his  bellows,  and  came 
to  his  mother,  and  said, 

"  Well,  mother,  where  is  there  any  such  a 
place?" 

"  I  know  of  one  place ;  but  you  can't  get  at  it, 
very  well." 

"  Where,  mother  ?  I  guess  I  can  get  at  it," 
said  Royal. 

"  Just  over  the  top  of  the  chimney,  upon  the 
house,"  his  mother  answered.  "  The  hot  air, 
which  comes  up  from  the  fire,  goes  out  there,  and 
rises  quite  high." 


royal's  story.  103 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Royal,  very  eagerly,  "  I 
can  get  up,  I  know." 

"  O  no,"  said  his  mother. 

"  Yes,  mother,  —  I  can  get  a  ladder.  I  know 
where  there  is  a  ladder,  just  right." 

"  O  no,"  said  his  mother ;  "  it  would  be  pre- 
posterous. Besides,  there  is  no  fire  in  the  fire- 
place now." 

"  There  is  in  the  kitchen,  mother,"  said  Royal. 

"  Yes,  and  then,  —  now  I  think  of  it,  —  I  be- 
lieve the  air  always  draws  up  through  a  chimney, 
whether  there  is  a  fire  in  it  or  not.  You  may 
take  away  the  fire-board,  and  shake  off  your  bub- 
bles m  the  chimney,  and  see  if  they  will  go  up." 

The  children  immediately  made  preparations 
for  trying  this  experiment ;  and  they  found,  after 
one  or  two  unsuccessful  attempts,  that  they  could 
make  very  light  and  thin  bubbles  rise  and  disap- 
pear up  the  chimney.  Lucy  blew  the  bubbles, 
as  the  pipe  was  hers.  Royal  stood  by,  restless 
and  uneasy.,  wishing  continually  that  he  had  an- 
other pipe. 

"  You  had  a  pipe  once,"  said  Lucy. 

"  I  know  it ;  but  I  broke  it,"  said  Royal.  "  My 
pipes  always  break." 

"  Well,  I  am  afraid  you  will  break  mine,"  said 
Lucy,  "  if  I  let  you  have  it." 


104  ,     lucy's  stories. 

"  No,"  said  Royal,  "  I  will  be  very  careful  in- 
deed. Just  let  me  have  it  to  blow  one,  —  only 
one.  I  want  to  blow  one  monster,  —  so  big  that 
he  can't  get  up  chimney.  Just  let  me  have  it  to 
blow  one,  and  then  I  will  give  it  right  back  to 
you  again." 

Lucy  gave  him  the  pipe,  reluctantly,  and  he 
began  to  blow.  The  bubble  broke  when  it  was 
about  as  big  as  an  orange. 

"  There,"  said  Lucy,  "  now  let  me  have  it." 

"  No,"  said  Royal ;  "  that  was  a  miss." 

"  But  you  said  one" 

"  Only  one  big  one.  I  want  to  blow  a  good 
big  one." 

So  he  began  to  blow  again.  This  time  the 
bubble  broke  when  it  was  still  smaller ;  and  just 
as  Lucy  began  to  say  that  now  Royal  must  give 
her  back  her  pipe,  he  said  suddenly, 

"  O  Lucy,  I  think  of  a  most  capital  place  to 
make  the  bubbles  go  up  —  capital." 

"  Where  ? "  said  Lucy. 

"  Over  the  register,  in  the  parlor." 

What  Royal  meant  by  the  register  was  this. 
There  was  a  furnace,  or  stove  set  within  brick 
walls,  in  the  cellar  of  the  house,  for  heating  the 
air  to  warm  the  house.  The  smoke  and  sparks 
all  went  off  by  a  stove  pipe  ;  but  the  hot  air  from 


royal's  story.  105 

around  the  outside  of  the  stove  came  up  through 
a  round  hole  in  the  parlor  floor.  Over  this  hole 
was  a  brass  apparatus,  by  means  of  which  it 
could  be  shut  or  opened  at  pleasure.  This  brass 
contrivance  was  called  the  register. 

Now,  in  the  winter  season,  when  there  was  a 
fire  in  the  furnace  below,  and  the  register  was 
open,  the  hot  air  always  came  up  in  a  strong  cur- 
rent, which  puffed  in  the  children's  faces,  when 
they  held  them  over  the  opening. 

So  Royal  thought  that  this  would  be  a  fine 
place  to  make  the  bubbles  go  up  ;  and  instead  of 
giving  Lucy  back  the  pipe,  he  began  to  run  off 
to  the  parlor,  calling  and  beckoning  to  Lucy  to 
follow  him. 

It  was  as  Royal  expected.  The  register  was 
a  very  fine  place  for  experiments  with  bubbles. 
The  draft  of  air  made  the  bubbles  ascend  rapidly, 
and  one  went  up  quite  to  the  wall,  where  it 
struck,  and  then  burst  in  an  instant. 

"  Now,  Royal,"  said  Lucy,  "  let  me  have  my 
pipe,     I  want  to  blow  some." 

Ci  Well,"  said  Royal,  —  "only  first  let  me 
blow  one  more.  And,  first,  I'll  take  out  the 
register,  so  as  to  let  the  air  come  up  laster." 

Now,  the  register  was  made  so  as  to  take  out 
and  put  in   easily ;  and  when  it  was  out,  it  left 


106 


the  hole  entirely  open.  The  hole  was  pretty 
large,  and  it  was  round. 

Royal  blew  another  bubble ;  and  when  he  set 
it  free  from  the  pipe,  it  rose  very  handsomely. 
"  See,  Lucy,  see  I  "  said  he  ;  "  it  goes  up  just  like 
a  balloon.     I  wish  we  had  a  car  to  it." 

"  Well,  now,  let  me  have  my  pipe,"  said 
Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Royal,  "  in  one  minute.  I  don't 
believe  but  that  a  bubble  will  carry  up  the  pipe 
itself,  for  a  car." 

"  No,"  said  Lucy,  taking  hold  of  the  pipe. 

"  Yes,"  said  Royal,  still  holding  on  to  it,  "  it 
will,  if  I  blow  a  monstrous  big  one.  It  must  be 
a  monstrous  big  one,  I  acknowledge,  Lucy.  Just 
let  me  blow  one  monster,  and  then,  if  it  does  not 
carry  the  pipe  up  hanging  at  the  bottom  of  it,  I'll 
give  you  my  little  ringer." 

"  I  don't  want  your  little  ringer,"  said  Lucy. 
"  I  want  my  pipe." 

Royal  had,  however,  by  this  time  begun  to  blow 
his  monster,  and  Lucy,  who  felt  some  curiosity  to 
see  whether  the  bubble  would  really  carry  up  the 
pipe,  and  who,  besides,  being  a  gentle  and  peaceable 
little  girl,  was  disposed  rather  to  submit  to  Royal's 
injustice  than  to  be  very  strenuous  in  resisting  it, 
sat  quietly  by,  watching  the  great  bubble  as  it 


royal's  story.  107 

gradually  expanded  under  the  bowl  of  the  pipe, 
and  as  the  colors  glittered  and  waved  all  over  its 
surface.     At  length  she  said, 

"  There,  now,  quick,  Royal ;  it  is  just  going 
to  burst." 

Royal  at  once  very  gently,  but  very  quickly, 
withdrew  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  let  go  of 
it.  At  the  same  instant,  the  bubble  burst,  and 
the  pipe  disappeared.  It  had  gone  down  the 
register ! 

"  There,  now ! "  said  Lucy,  in  a  tone  of  great 
grief  and  disappointment ;  "  now  you  have  lost  my 
pipe." 

Royal  looked  down  the  register ;  but  it  was  a 
dark  hole,  and  nothing  was  to  be  seen. 

'■  How  unlucky  it  was,"  said  he,  "  that  the 
bubble  burst  just  at  that  moment !  I  do  verily 
believe  it  would  have  carried  the  pipe  up,  Lucy, 
if  it  had  not  broke." 

Lucy  did  not  answer.  The  tears  were  fast 
coming  into  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  cry,  Lucy,"  said  Royal ;  "  you'll  get 
another  pipe  some  of  these  days." 

But  the  prospect  of  getting  another  pipe,  some 
of  these  days,  did  not  seem  to  be  sufficient  con- 
solation;   for  Lucy  turned   away  overwhelmed 


10S  lucy's   stories. 

with  sorrow,  and  was  going  into  the  other  room 
to  her  mother. 

Royal  jumped  up,  and  followed  her,  and  put 
his  arm  round  her  neck,  and  begged  her  not  to 
cry.  "  Come,"  said  he,  "  come  with  me  to  the 
sofa,  and  I'll  tell  you  a  story.  Til  tell  you  a 
beautiful  story  about  some  enormous  great  bub- 
bles, that  a  boy  blew  once  with  a  blacksmith's 
bellows." 

Lucy's  curiosity  was  somewhat  excited  by  this, 
and  she  suffered  herself  to  be  led,  reluctantly,  to 
the  sofa,  where  Royal  drew  her  up  near  to  him, 
and  commenced  his  story  thus :  — 

"  Once  there  was  a  boy  blowing  bubbles  out 
in  the  yard.  When  he  got  tired,  he  lay  down  on 
the  grass,  under  a  tree,  and  got  asleep.  "While  he 
was  asleep,  he  dreamed ;  and  he  dreamed  about 
blowing  bubbles.  He  dreamed  that  he  had  a 
little  pond  full  of  soap-suds,  and  that  he  had  a 
pipe  with  a  bowl  as  big  as  a  barrel,  and  a  black- 
smith's bellows  to  blow  with. 

"  The  first  bubble  he  blew  was  as  big  as  a  ho^s- 
head,  and  the  second  was  as  big  as  this  room." 

"  O  Royal,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Why,  I  didn't  tell  you  it  was  true,  Lucy ;  it 
was  only  a  dream." 

"  O  yes,"  said  Lucy. 


109 

"  The  great  bubble,  as  big  as  this  room,"  con- 
tinued Royal,  "had  a  splendid  great  rainbow 
round  the  middle  of  it,  —  a  hundred  colors,  —  all 
different. 

"  And  there  was  a  drop  hanging  at  the  bottom 
of  the  bubble,  which  was  big  enough  for  the  boy 
to  get  into.  So  he  said  that  he  would  have  the 
bubble  for  the  balloon,  and  the  drop  for  his  car, 
and  he  got  into  the  car,  and  sailed  away  up  into 
the  air." 

"  O  Royal ! "  said  Lucy,  "  what  a  story  ! " 

"  He  went  up,"  continued  Royal,  "  to  a  great 
height ;  and  there  an  eagle  came  flying  along,  and 
happened  just  to  touch  the  bubble  with  the  tip  of 
his  wing,  and  burst  it,  and  the  poor  boy  began  to 
fall.  He  was  terribly  frightened.  He  thought 
that  he  should  certainly  be  killed.  But  while  he 
was  falling,  he  woke  up,  and  found  himself  safe 
under  the  tree." 

Here  Royal  paused,  and  Lucy  was  silent  a 
moment,  when  at  length  she  said, 

"  And  did  any  boy  really  dream  such  a  dream 
as  that?" 

"No,"  said  Royal,  —  "it  was  only  a  story  I 
made  up,  just  to  amuse  you." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  said  Lucy.  "  I  thought  at  least 
10 


110  lucy's  stories. 

he  really  dreamed.  But  now  how  shall  I  get  my 
pipe?" 

"  Why,  as  to  your  pipe,  Lucy,"  said  Royal,  "1 
am  sorry  for  it,  truly,  —  but,  you  see,  you  hurried 
me,  —  that  was  the  cause.  You  told  me  it  was 
just  going  to  burst,  and  so  I  let  it  go  too  quick, 
and  made  it  burst.  I  am  convinced  that  the 
bubble  was  big  enough  to  have  carried  the  pipe 
up ;  and  then  just  think,"  added  Royal,  with  a 
smile,  "  how  beautiful  it  would  have  looked  soar- 
ing around  the  room,  and,  at  last,  when  the  bubble 
Tvent  out,  dropping  on  the  sofa." 

"  It  would  not  have  dropped  on  the  sofa,"  said 
Lucy,  looking  quite  serious  still.  In  fact,  all 
Royal's  attempts  to  amuse  her  mind,  and  make 
her  forget  her  pipe,  seemed  to  have  only  a  tempo- 
rary effect ;  and  at  last  they  both  went  out  into 
the  other  room  to  state  the  case  to  their  mother. 
Miss  Anne  was  sitting  there,  and  she  heard  the 
story  too. 

Lucy's  mother  listened  attentively  to  all  the 
particulars  of  the  case,  before  expressing  any 
opinion.  She  heard  all  that  Lucy  had  to  say, 
and  all  that  Royal  had  to  say ;  and  at  last  Royal 
concluded  by  asking,  whether,  on  the  whole,  she 
did   not   consider   Lucy  as   much   to   blame   as 


Ill 

he  was  for  dropping  the  pipe  down  in  the 
register. 

"  Why,  we  must  distinguish,"  said  their  mother, 
"  between  the  different  parts  of  the  transaction. 
There  is  your  refusal  to  give  back  Lucy  her  pipe, 
your  taking  out  the  register  without  leave,  and 
your  dropping  the  pipe.  I  don't  see  that  either 
of  you  was  to  blame  in  regard  to  the  dropping 
of  the  pipe." 

"Neither  of  us?" 

"  No ;  it  was  an  accident,  —  a  mere  accident. 
Your  letting  go  of  such  a  heavy  thing  over  a 
deep  hole,  with  nothing  to  hold  it  up  but  a  bub- 
ble, may  show  your  ignorance  of  philosophy, — 
but  there  was  no  evil  intention  in  your  mind,  at 
that  moment,  I  suppose,  and  therefore  nothing 
like  guilt  in  it. 

"  But,  then,  as  to  your  taking  out  the  register 
without  leave,  that  was  not  right.  It  was  what 
we  call  a  misdemeanor.  You  knew  that  I  do 
not  like  to  have  the  register  taken  out,  on  account 
of  the  danger  that  things  may  fall  down  into  the 
flue.  This  was  an  irregularity,  —  an  act  contrary 
to  good  order,  —  a  misdemeanor.  But  then  the 
misdemeanor  was  fully  committed  when  you  got 
the  register  fairly  out.  It  was  not  altered  by 
anything  that  took  place  afterwards.     It  was  not 


112  lucy's 

made  any  more  a  misdemeanor,  by  your  dropping 
the  pipe  into  the  hole  ;  nor  would  it  have  been 
any  less  a  misdemeanor,  if  you  had  not  dropped 
anything,  but  had  put  the  register  safely  back 
again,  after  you  had  done  playing. 

"  Then,  finally,"  continued  Royal's  mother, 
"  your  refusal  to  give  Lucy  back  her  pipe  readily 
when  she  wanted  it,  was  worse  than  a  misde- 
meanor. It  was  morally  wrong.  It  was  unjust. 
We  ought  not  to  keep  rightful  owners  out  of  pos- 
session of  their  property,  just  because  we  are  the 
strongest,  and  have  the  power.  In  important 
cases  among  men,  this  is  called  oppression  and 
robbery ;  but  the  principle  is  the  same,  and  the 
nature  of  the  moral  guilt  is  the  same  in  so  small 
a  case  as  this,  —  merely  keeping  a  pipe  a  few 
minutes  away  from  the  child  that  it  belongs  to." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Royal.  "  I  read  in  a 
book  once,  that  it  was  as  bad  to  steal  a  pin,  as  it 
was  to  steal  a  thousand  dollars." 

"I  have  heard  such  things  said,"  his  mother 
answered,  "  but  I  think  it  is  a  mistake.  The 
guilt  is  the  same  in  nature,  but  less  in  degree. 
It  shows  a  greater  degree  of  hardihood  and  de- 
pravity, generally,  to  commit  a  great  robbery, 
than  it  does  to  commit  a  small  one.  In  fact, 
criminals    go   on,   in    proportion    as   they   grow 


113 


more  and  more  wicked,  from  small  to  large 
crimes." 

"  I  think  so  too,  mother,"  said  Royal. 

"  So,  you  see,  your  keeping  Lucy  out  of  pos- 
session of  her  pipe,  was  morally  wrong;  the 
opening  of  the  register  was  a  misdemeanor; 
and  the  dropping  down  the  pipe,  was  only  an 
accident,  and  of  no  moral  quality  whatever. 

"But,  then,"  she  continued,  "you  must  ob- 
serve that,  although  it  was  an  accident,  still  it 
was  your  accident,  and  not  Lucy's ;  and  of  course 
you  ought  to  bear  the  loss. 

"  How.  mother  ?  "  said  Royal. 

"  Why,  by  buying  Lucy  another  pipe  with 
your  money." 

"  What,  when  it  was  only  an  accident,  and  I 
was  not  to  blame  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  we  often  meet  with  losses  from 
accidents.  And  every  one  must  bear  their  own. 
Once  I  went  a  shopping,  and  took  you  with  me, 
when  you  were  a  very  small  boy ;  and  when  we 
were  in  a  crockery  store,  and  I  was  busy  looking 
at  some  tumblers,  you  got  my  parasol,  and  hooked 
the  little  crook  at  the  end  of  it  into  the  handle 
of  a  pitcher  upon  the  counter,  and  pulled  it 
down." 

Royal  laughed  aloud  at  this  anecdote  of  one 
10* 


114  lucy's  stories. 

of  his  earlier  years.  Even  Lucy  seemed  a  little 
amused. 

"  Did  it  break,  mother  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  O  yes,  all  to  pieces,"  said  she.  "  Now 
there  was  an  accident ;  nobody  was  to  blame ; 
but  then " 

u  Why,  I  should  think  that  I  was  to  blame," 
said  Royal. 

"  No,  you  did  not  know  that  it  would  break." 

"  Why,  how  big  was  I  ? " 

"  O,  only  just  big  enough  to  run  about." 

Here  Royal  laughed  again,  loud  and  long,  — 
too  much  delighted  with  the  stoiy  itself  to  listen 
to  the  application  which  his  mother  intended  to 
make  of  it  to  the  present  argument.  However, 
when  his  glee  had  in  some  measure  subsided,  his 
mother  added, 

"  Now,  that  was  an  accident ;  but  then  it  was 
my  accident,  not  the  shopman's ;  and  so  I  imme- 
diately paid  for  the  pitcher." 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Royal,  "  I'll  buy  Lucy 
another  pipe.  I've  got  some  money  in  my  box  up 
stairs.  I'll  take  a  cent,  and  go  and  buy  you  one 
this  afternoon,  Lucy.  Two ;  I'll  buy  you  two. 
I  can  get  two  for  a  cent,  —  beautiful  ones,  with 
twisted  stems." 

Lucy  wiped  away  the  remains  of  her  tears, 


royal's  story.  115 

and  began  to  look  quite  pleased  at  this  prospect. 
Then  in  a  minute  she  began  to  advance  towards 
Royal,  playfully,  and  said, 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing  I  know,  —  I've  got 
your  little  finger." 

"  My  little  ringer  ?  "  said  Royal. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Lucy ;  "  you  said  that  if  the 
pipe  did  not  go  up,  you'd  give  me  your  little 
finger." 

"O  dear  me,"  said  Royal,  pretending  to  be 
much  concerned  at  the  loss  of  his  little  finger. 
"What  shall  I  do?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  mine,"  said  she;  "give  it  to  me. 
I'm  going  to  carry  it  off.  I  have  a  right  to  do 
what  I've  a  mine!  to  with  it.  I  mean  to  pinch  it, 
and  tie  a  string  round  it,  as  tight  as  I  can." 

So  Lucy  took  hold  of  his  little  finger,  and 
dragged  him  off  by  it  into  the  parlor,  to  find  a 
string,  Royal  all  the  time  pretending  to  hang 
back,  and  saying,  "  O !  O  1 "  in  a  comical  tone, 
and  Lucy  laughing  with  all  her  heart. 

When  they  were  gone,  Miss  Anne  said, 

"  I  rather  think  that  when  Royal  was  little,  he 
was  pretty  much  such  a  boy  as  he  is  now." 

"  Yes,"  said  his  mother,  "  pretty  much  the 


116  lucy's  stories 


CHAPTER    IX. 
THE  MOROCCO   BOOK   AGAIN 

Lucy  learned  a  good  deal  more  about  the  Mo- 
rocco Book  the  next  day  after  Mary  Jay  had  read 
the  story  of  Rocksy  out  of  it.  The  children  told 
her  that  some  time  before,  when  she  first  came  to 
the  school,  she  used  to  write  stories  for  them  in 
little  books,  and  upon  sheets  of  paper,  until,  at 
last,  one  day  the  teacher  made  her  a  present  of 
the  great  Morocco  Book,  to  copy  her  stories  into. 

"  Then  what  did  she  do  with  the  little  books  ? " 
said  Lucy. 

"  O,  she  gave  some  of  them  to  us,"  said  Man- 
elle ;  "  she  gave  me  one  about  Alice." 

"  I  wish  you  would  read  it  to  me  some  day," 
said  Lucy. 

"  Well,"  said  Marielle,  "  I  will,  —  in  some 
recess." 

Marielle  did,  some  days  after  this,  read  her  the 
story  of  Alice,  —  as  will  be  more  particularly 
described  in  the  latter  pnrt  of  this  volume.  Be- 
fore that  time,  however,  Mary  Jay  read  to  the 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK    AGAIN.  I 

girls,  at  different  times,  several  stories  from  the 
Morocco  Book ;  the  first  of  which  was  called  the 
Stormy  Evening,  and  was  as  follows:  — 

• 

THE   STORMY   EVENING. 

FROM     THE     MOROCCO     BOOK. 

One  stormy  evening,  little  Jane  came  up  to  her 
grandmother,  who  was  sitting  in  a  great  arm-chair 
in  the  comer,  and  kneeled  down  upon  her  cricket, 
and  rested  her  arms  in  her  lap.  Her  grandmother 
was  knitting.  She  looked  down  upon  Jane,  and 
said, 

"  Well,  Jenny,  have  you  come  to  bid  me  good 
night  ? " 

"  O  no,  grandmother,"  said  Jane  ;  "  it  is  not 
time  for  me  to  go  to  bed  yet.  I  have  come  for 
you  to  tell  me  a  story." 

"  A  story  ! "  said  her  grandmother,  —  "  O,  I 
have  forgotten  all  my  stories." 

"  Well,  tell  me  something,"  said  Jane. 

"  Let  me  see,  —  I  will  tell  you  about  this 
stormy  evening.  Do  you  know  what  makes  this 
storm  }  " 

"  No,"  said  Jane. 

"  Why,  there  is  a  great  ocean  of  air,  above 


118  lucy's  stories. 

us  and  around  us,  which  is  all  moving  swiftly 
along,  sweeping  over  the  forests,  and  valleys, 
and  tops  of  the  mountains.  It  comes  from  the 
cold  north,  and  the  moisture  which  is  in  it  is 
chilled,  and  is  turned  into  snow,  and  falls  con- 
tinually down  to  the  ground.  The  wind  roars 
through  the  forests,  and  whistles  around  the 
houses,  and  drives  the  snow,  with  a  click,  click, 
against  the  windows.  And  yet  here,  in  our  warm 
house,  and  by  our  comfortable  fire,  we  are  sheltered 
and  protected  from  it  completely." 

"  What  does  that  mean  ? "  said  Jane. 

"  Why,  we  are  covered  from  it,  so  that  the  wind 
does  not  blow  upon  us." 

"  O  yes,"  said  Jane ;    "  well ;  go  on." 

"  Puss  is  asleep,"  continued  her  grandmother, 
"  before  the  fire,  with  her  chin  upon  her  paws  for 
a  pillow.  You  have  been  reading  your  book  by 
the  table,  and  1  am  here  knitting,  at  my  ease ; 
and  the  vast  torrefits  of  wind  and  driving  snow 
sweep  by  us  without  doing  us  any  harm  at  all. 
This  is  one  stormy  evening  scene;  but  there 
are  a  great  many  others  very  different  from  this, 
in  different  parts  of  the  world." 

"  What  are  they,  grandmother  ?  "  asked  Jane. 

"  Why,  there  is  a  difFerent  scene  at  the  lonely 
farmer's  cabin  in  the  woods.     The  farmer  lights 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK    AGAIN.  119 

his  lantern,  and  goes  out  to  his  barn,  to  feed  his 
horses  and  his  oxen.  His  little  son  goes  with 
him,  and  holds  the  lantern  for  him,  standing  upon 
the  ladder,  while  his  father  pitches  down  the 
hay.  They  then  go  back  into  the  house,  wading 
through  the  snow;  the  little  children  are  lying 
upon  the  floor  asleep,  with  their  feet  towards  the 
fire ;  and  the  snow,  which  drives  through  the  crev- 
ices in  the  walls,  and  around  the  windows  and 
door,  forms  little  drifts  upon  the  floor.  But  in 
the  mean  time  a  blazing  fire  glows  and  crackles 
in  the  great  stone  fireplace,  and  the  family  are 
contented  and  happy. 

"The  stormy  evening  presents  another  scene 
at  sea.  The  ship  heaves  and  tosses  over  the 
great  waves.  The  sky  is  dark,  —  the  wind  howls 
through  the  icy  rigging.  A  few  men  walk  about 
the  deck,  or  lean  over  the  bulwarks,  cold,  and  wet, 
and  tired,  and  one  stands  at  the  helm,  watching 
the  compass,  which  is  lighted  by  a  little  lamp  in  a 
box  before  him,  and  which  tells  him  which  way 
to  steer.  They  are  all  waiting  for  midnight, 
when  they  hope  the  storm  will  lull.5' 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  lull  ?  "  asked  Jane. 

"  Why,  that  the  w'ud  will  not  blow  so  hard," 
said  her  grandmother. 

"  The  stormy  evening  presents  another  scene," 


120  lucy's  stories. 

she  continued,  "  in  the  lonely  places  among  the 
mountains.  There  it  is  all  silence  and  solitude. 
Not  a  living  thing  is  to  be  seen.  The  birds  have 
flown  away,  —  the  squirrel  is  in  his  deep  hole, 
under  the  ground;  the  leaves  have  fallen  from 
the  trees,  and  the  wind  moans  gloomily  through 
the  desolate  branches ;  —  but  there  is  no  ear  to 
hear  it,  and  no  eye  to  see  the  vast  piles  of  snow 
which  gather  under  the  craggy  rocks,  and  bury 
the  trunks  of  the  old,  fallen  trees. 

"  There  is  another  scene  presented  by  the 
stormy  evening,  when  a  traveller  is  out  alone 
upon  a  solitary  road,  and  finds  it  difficult  to  make 
out  his  way  through  the  trackless  and  unbroken 
snow.  The  fine  flakes  drive  into  his  face,  and 
the  keen  wind  makes  his  ears  tingle.  His  horse 
sometimes  rears  and  plunges,  when  he  gets  deep 
into  the  drifts,  and  then,  a  moment  afterwards,  at 
the  summit  of  a  little  hill,  he  drags  the  grating 
irons  of  the  sleigh  runners  over  the  bare  and 
frozen  ground.  The  weary  traveller  strains  his 
eyes  to  catch  a  glimmer  of  light  from  some  house 
by  the.  way-side,  where  he  at  least  may  ask  how 
much  farther  it  is  to  the  end  of  his  journey." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jane,  "  and  he  might  ask  them  to 
let  him  stay  all  night,  and  then  go  home  the  next 
morning." 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK    AGAIN.  121 

"  So  he  could,"  said  her  grandmother. 

"  The  stormy  evening,"  she  continued,  "  pre- 
sents another  scene  in  the  great  city.  The 
coachmen,  wrapped  in  rough  great-coats,  .drive, 
through  the  loose  snow,  up  to  the  doors  of  the 
great  houses,  to  take  the  ladies  to  their  visits. 
The  shopkeepers'  boys  shovel  and  brush  the 
snow,  that  has  already  fallen,  off  the  side-walks, 
by  the  bright  gas  light  which  streams  through  the 
great  panes  of  the  shop  windows ;  and  then  they 
put  up  the  shutters  and  go  in.  The  merchant, 
who  has  just  finished  reading  the  news  which 
came  in  by  the  evening  mail,  buttons  up  his 
wrapper,  and  goes  towards  his  home ;  and,  as  he 
turns  the  corner  of  the  street,  and  the  wild  blast 
of  the  storm  strikes  him  in  all  its  fury,  he  hopes 
that  his  ship  is  well  off  the  coast.  The  school- 
boy drags  his  sled,  half  buried  in  the  snow,  to  the 
door  in  the  brick  wall  which  leads  to  the  court- 
yard of  his  father's  house,  and,  entering,  disap- 
pears ;  while,  at  the  same  instant,  the  lamp-lighter 
is  just  climbing  up  his  little  ladder  to  the  top 
of  the  lamp-post  outside,  and  lights  the  lamp  with 
his>  blazing  torch,  which  flashes  upon  the  fresh 
snow,  and  upon  the  sides  of  the  lofty  buildings." 

Here  Jane's  grandmother  stopped. 

"  Is  that  all,  grandmother  ?  "  said  Jane. 
11 


122  lucy's  stories. 

"Why,  that  is  all  I  think  of  now.  Though 
there  is  one  more  scene  that  I  can  imagine.  I 
can  imagine  that  little  Jane  takes  her  lamp,  bids 
her  father  and  mother  good  night,  and  goes  to  her 
trundle-bed.  She  draws  the  comforter  up  to  her 
chin,  and,  after  praying  to  Almighty  God  to  take 
care  of  her,  she  falls  asleep,  and  dreams  of  sli- 
dings  and  sleigh-rides  all  night,  while  the  wind 
blows  as  it  will." 

Here  Jane's  grandmother  paused  again. 

"  Tell  me  a  little  more,"  said  Jane. 

"  No,"  said  her  grandmother,  "  no  more ;  but 
now  let  me  hear  how  well  you  remember  what  I 
have  told  you.     Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Well,  grandmamma,"  said  Jane,  "  if  you  will 
take  me  up  in  your  lap." 

So  Jane's  grandmother  took  her  up  in  her  lap, 
and  Jane  began  as  follows  :  — 

"  Once  there  was  a  man,  —  travelling,  —  no, 
let's  see;  how  does  it  begin,  grandmother?" 

"  O,  go  on  ;  you  are  beginning  very  well." 

"  Well,  —  he  rode  over  a  little  hill,  and  saw 
a  house,  —  and " 

Here  Jane  began  to  be  very  restless,  and  to  move 
as  if  she  was  trying  to  get  down  ;  and  she  said, 

"  O  dear  me !  I  am  so  tired  of  telling !  " 

Here  Jane's  grandmother  began  to  laugh  out- 


THE    MOROCCO    BOOK    AGAIN.  123 

right,  and  she  tickled  Jane,  as  she  slid  down  upon 
the  cricket,  and  said, 

"Ah  ha!  you  are  a  fine  little  auditor,  here 
you  have  forgotten  all  my  story." 

Jane  struggled,  and  pulled,  and  tried  to  get 
away,  making  the  room  ring  all  the  time  with  her 
merry  peals  of  laughter,  saying,  all  the  time, 

"  O  no,  grandmother,  I  have  not  forgotten ; 
I  have  not  forgotten,  grandmother.  I  haven't 
forgotten." 

Her  grandmother  paid  no  attention  to  what 
she  said,  but  kept  up  the  frolic  by  leaning  over 
and  holding  her  down,  and  playfully  shaking  and 
squeezing  her,  until,  at  length,  Jane  rolled  over 
upon  the  carpet,  and  scrambled  off  out  of  her 
reach. 

As  soon  as  she  was  at  a  safe  distance,  she  as- 
sumed a  sober  look,  and  turned  around,  and  said, 

"  I  have  not  forgotten,  grandmother,  certainly 
I  can  tell  you  a  great  deal." 

"  Well,"  said  her  grandmother,  "  come,  then, 
and  tell  me." 

So  Jane  came  again,  and  took  her  seat  in  her 
grandmother's  lap,  to  begin  again. 

"  Now,"  said  her  grandmother,  "  describe  the 
scene  at  the  farmer's  cabin  on  a  stormy  evening." 

"  Well,  —  the  farmer  goes  out  to  the  barn  to 


124 

feed  his  oxen,  and  the  ship  tosses  about  upon  the 
waves  - —  and  —  and " 

"  Well,  that  will  do  for  that,"  said  her  grand- 
mother. "  Now  tell  me  about  the  scene  in  the 
city." 

"  In  the  city  ?  "  asked  Jane. 

"  Yes,"  answered  her  grandmother. 

"  Let  me  see  ;  —  was  that  about  the  ship  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  her  grandmother. 

"  O,  I  remember  now,"  said  Jane.  "  It  was 
about  the  Jack-o-lantern,  —  and  the  drivers. — 
They  go  with  their  horses  to  let  the  ladies  take 
their  visits.  I  should  like  to  have  a  ride  in  such 
a  coach  as  that,  —  if  they  had  four  horses,  —  or 
five.  I  think  they  had  about  four.  Well,  and 
the  boy  lights  the  lamps  with  his  candle-lantern, 
and  wishes  that  his  ship  was  away  off;  and 
that  is  all  that  I  can  remember." 

So  Jane  jumped  down,  and  ran  away,  while 
her  grandmother,  after  having  a  good  hearty 
laugh,  went  on  with  her  knitting. 


A   DIALOGUE.  125 

CHAPTER    X. 

A  DIALOGUE. 

There  were  some  dialogues,  as  well  as  sto- 
ries, in  the  Morocco  Book.  One  was  named  The 
Quagmire.     It  was  as  follows :  — 

THE    QUAGMIRE. 

Scene  I.  —  A  wild  road  near  the  margin  of  a 
wood.  Laura,  George,  and  their  Father  and 
Mother,  with  a  horse  and  chaise. 

Laura.     Where  are  your  raspberries,  George  ? 

George.  I  have  put  them  here  in  the  chaise  \ 
and  I  will  put  yours  in,  too,  as  soon  as  I  have 
unfastened  the  horse. 

Father.  Now,  children,  I  am  going  to  walk 
home  ;  and  you,  George,  may  drive  your  mother ; 
and  as  for  you,  Laura,  which  will  you  do,  — ride 
with  them,  or  walk  with  me  ? 

Laura.     Why,  —  which  would  you  do,  father? 
Will  you  let  me  drive  a  little,  George  ? 
11  * 


126  lucy's  stories. 

George.  Yes,  you  may  drive  a  little  way, 
when  we  get  up  by  the  blacksmith's. 

Laura,     Well,  then,  I  will  ride. 

Father.  Hold  him  a  minute,  George,  while  I 
help  mother  in. 

Mother.  Wait.  I'll  put  the  small  basket  be- 
hind the  great  one.     There. 

Father.     Now,  Laura 

Laura.  But,  father,  you  will  be  all  alone. 
I  believe,  on  the  whole,  I  will  walk  with  you.  — 
Which  would  you  do  ? 

Father.  You  must  decide.  It  is  a  mere  mat- 
ter of  fancy.  You  must  not  walk  to  keep  me 
company.  I  shall  have  company  enough.  Do 
just  which  you  prefer. 

George.  Come,  Laura,  —  in ;  I'm  wait- 
ing. 

Laura.  Well,  father,  —  which  road  are  you 
going  ? 

Father.     Along  the  bank. 

Laura.     And   over   the  brook,  by  the  great 

Father.     Yes,  where  you  almost  tumbled  in. 

Laura.  Well,  father,  I'll  walk.  Perhaps  I 
shall  see  some  more  little  fishes. 

George.  Well,  good  by,  then,  Laura ;  stand 
back  from  the  wheel.     Come,  Jack. 


THE    QUAGMIRE.  127 

Laura.  I've  a  great  mind  to  ride.  Take 
good  care  of  my  raspberries,  George. 

Father.  Come,  Laura ;  now  they've  gone, 
we'll  walk  along  at  our  leisure. 

Laura.  Yes,  father.  I've  a  great  mind  to 
run  and  take  hold  behind  the  chaise  till  they  get 
up  the  hill.  George !  look  around  here,  and 
see  us. 

George.  Ah,  Laura,  you'll  wish  you  had 
concluded  to  ride. 

Father.  Mind  your  driving,  George,  and 
whip   up. 

Laura.     Father,  I  wish  I  had  rode. 

Father.  Well,  Laura,  it  isn't  too  late ;  but 
then  you'd  lose  the  fishes. 

Laura.  No,  I'll  walk.  I  can  ride  at  any 
time.  He  may  go.  George,  which  way  do  you 
think  you  shall  go  ? 

George.  Round  \fjr  the  mill,  and  then  across 
through  the  woods.  But  I  can't  talk  to  you  any 
more ;  I  must  whip  up. 

Laura.  Now,  father,  after  all,  I'm  sorry  that 
I  didn't  ride.  I  like  very  much  to  ride  through 
the  woods.  Last  time  we  went,  we  saw  a  squirrel 
there.     I'll  call  him. 

Father.  No,  Laura,  it  is  .too  late  now. 
You've  decided. 


128 

Laura.  No,  father,  I'll  run.  I  can  stop  him. 
I  can  call  very  loud.  George !  George  1  Mother ! 
George  ! 

Father.  No,  Laura.  Laura,  come  back ; 
the  wheels  make  too  great  a  rattling.  You  must 
walk  now. 

Laura.  O  father  !  He  won't  stop.  How  1 
wish  I  had  got  into  the  chaise  !  He  wouldn't 
stop,  and  yet  I  know  he  heard  me.  He  wouldn't 
stop,  and  now  I  can't  ride. 

Father.  No,  you  can't  ride  now.  You  had 
your  choice ;  and  ycu  chose  to  walk  with  me. 
You  can't  ride,  but  you  can  go  over  the  great 
log,  and  see  the  fishes. 

Laura.  But,  father,  I  don't  care  about  the 
fishes.  I've  seen  them  already.  I  don't  care 
about  the  fishes.  I  wanted  to  ride,  and  now  I 
shall  have  to  walk  all  the  way  home,  and  I 
shall  get  so  tired !  O  dear  me  !  Why  didn't  he 
stop? 

Scene  II.  —  A  parlor.    The  tea-table.     Laura, 
George,  and  their  Father. 

Laura.  Now,  George,  you've  dropped  my 
doll  out  of  the  window. 

George.     She  jumped.     I  verily  believe  she 


THE    QUAGMIRE.  131 

jumped.  I'll  go  and  get  her.  She  has  fallen  be- 
hind die  rose-bush. 

■  Laura.  Ah,  father,  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
putting  away  your  book.  Now  if  you  will  only 
tell  me  a  story. 

Father.  Very  well ;  come  and  sit  in  my  lap 
here,  and  look  out  the  window,  and  I'll  tell  you 
the  story  of  a  man  and  a  quagmire. 

Laura.     What  is  a  quagmire,  father  ? 

George.  Here  is  your  doll,  Laura.  —  A  quag- 
mire ?  I  know  what  a  quagmire  is.  It  is  a  kind 
of  a  swamp. 

Laura.  Then  why  don't  they  say  swamp,  at 
once  ?    and  I  should  understand. 

Father  Because  it  is  not  exactly  the  same. 
A  quagmire  is  a  very  deep,  miry  swamp,  or  part  of 
a  swamp.  —  And  now  for  my  story.  —  Once  there 
was  a  quagmire ;  and  the  road,  when  it  came 
near  it,  turned  off  and  went  by  it  on  one  side. 
There  was  a  turnpike  also.,  which  branched  off 
from  the  old  road,  and  went  by  on  the  other  side. 

Laura.     What  is  a  turnpike  ? 

George  Why,  —  a  turnpike?  Laura,  don't 
you  know  what  a  turnpike  is?  It  is  a  kind 
of  a  straight  road. 

Laura.     Is  it,  father? 

Father.     Yes,  a  turnpike  is  generally  straighter 


132  lucy's  stories. 

and  nearer  than  the  old  road,  and  you  have  to 
pay  a  little  money  to  go  over  it.  Now,  when 
this  man  came  to  the  place  where  the  old  rdad 
branched  off  from  the  turnpike,  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  Now,  which  way  shall  I  go  ?  The  turn- 
pike is  the  nearest,  and  the  old  road  is  pleasantest. 
I'll  go  the  old  road."  So  he  turned  into  the  old 
road.  "  But  no,"  said  he ;  "  I  am  in  some  haste, 
and  I  believe  I'll  take  the  turnpike."  So  he 
turned,  and  went  back  around  the  guide-post,  into 
the  turnpike. 

Laura.     Around  what  guide-post  ? 

George.  Why,  Laura,  —  you  see,  —  there 
was  a  guide-post,  where  the  roads  branched  off, 
—  I   suppose. 

Father.  Yes.  When  the  man  had  gone  into 
the  turnpike  a  little  way,  he  said  to  himself, 
"  But  now,  if  I  go  in  the  turnpike,  I  shall  have  to 
pay ;  and  I  am  not  enough  in  a  hurry  to  make  it 
worth  while  to  pay.  I've  a  great  mind  to  go 
back  again  to  the  old  road." 

Laura.  O,  what  a  man !  But,  father,  how 
much  would  he  have  to  pay? 

Father.     Only  a  little,  —  perhaps  a  few  cents. 

Laura.     Well,  father,  go  on. 

Father.  The  man  then  said  that  he  would 
finally  decide  to  go  by  the  old  road ;  and  he  went 


A    DIALOGUE.  133 

f 

back  around  the  guide-post  once  more,  and  began 
to  walk  along  briskly.  He  had  not  gone  very  far, 
however,  before  he  began  to  doubt  whether  it 
would  not  have  been  better  to  have  gone  by  the 
turnpike.  "I  was  rather  foolish  to  give  up  the 
nearest  road  just  to  save  two  or  three  cents."  So 
he  turned  around,  and  began  to  look  back  ;  but  it 
was  so  far  to  the  guide-post,  that  he  thought,  on 
the  whole,  he  had  better  keep  on.  But  after 
going  a  few  steps  farther,  he  concluded  that  he 
would  go  across  through  the  woods,  and  cut  off 
the  corner,  —  and  so  get  into  the  turnpike  again 
By  a  nearer  way. 

Laura.     O,  father,  what  a  man  ! 

Father.  He  accordingly  climbed  over  the  wall, 
and  went  into  the  woods.  Before  Ions:,  he  besan 
to  get  into  the  quagmire,  though  he  contrived  to 
go  on  by  walking  upon  mossy  logs,  and  stepping 
upon  hummocks  and  tufts  of  grass.  But  it  was 
hard  work  and  slow,  —  and  says  he,  "  I  did  not 
think  of  the  quagmire.  If  I  had  recollected 
that  there  was  a  quagmire  here,  I  would  not  have 
attempted  to  come  across.  I  believe  now  I  had 
better  go  back." 

Laura.     I  think  so  too. 

George.  I  would  not  go  back,  —  I  would  not 
change  any  more,  if  the  mud  was  up  to  my  chin. 


134  lucy's  stories. 

Father.  He  turned  around,  and  went  back  a 
few  steps,  though  not  exactly  by  the  same  way 
that  he  came.  There  were  fewer  good  places  to 
step.  Presently  he  reached  a  hummock  which 
was  pretty  firm,  and  he  stopped  a  minute  to  look 
around  and  consider.  Says  he,  "  It  would  have 
been  better  for  me  to  go  on.  I  think  it  likely 
I  had  got  half  through  the  quagmire ;  and  at  any 
rate  it  was  foolish  to  turn  back.  I'll  push  on 
now  I  am  in,  and  get  through  to  the  turnpike." 
So  he  stepped  off  of  the  hummock  in  the  direc- 
tion towards  the  turnpike. 

George.  Ho !  —  what  a  man !  I  don't  believe 
he'll  ever  get  out  of  the  quagmire. 

Father.  He  had  now  turned  around  so  many 
times,  that  he  had  got  a  good  deal  bewildered. 
In  fact,  he  hardly  knew  which  way  to  go.  The 
ground  grew  softer  and  softer,  too,  and  he  began 
to  sink.  He  jumped  forward  to  a  green-looking 
spot,  which  he  hoped  was  solid;  but  it  was 
nothing  but  long  grass,  —  and  he  went  into  the 
mud  up  to  his  knees.  And  here  he  had  to  stay, 
calling  for  help,  until  somebody  came  and  helped 
him  out.  [George  and  Laura  fell  into  an  im- 
moderate fit  of  laughter. ,] 

George.     Father,  that  story  isn't  true,  is  it  ? 

Father      I  believe  I  did  not  say  it  was  true. 


THE     QUAGMIRE.  135 

Laura.  I  don't  believe  it  is  true,  father.  It 
must  be  one  that  you  made  up.  And  I  know 
what  you  mean.  You  mean  me,  father,  I  know 
you  do. 

Father.  You !  Why  did  you  ever  get  into 
such  a  quagmire? 

Laura.     No,  father,  not  exactly. 

Father.  Well,  I'll  tell  you  how  you  can 
always  keep  out  of  one. 

Laura.     How,  father? 

Father.  Make  it  a  rule,  whenever  you  have 
once  decided  what  to  do,  never  to  reconsider  the 
question,  and  change  your  mind,  unless  something 
new  and  extraordinary  comes  to  your  knowledge, 
to  make  it  necessary. 


136  lucy's  stories. 


4    CHAPTER    XI 


SABBATH    DAY. 


Lucjt  was  sometimes  very  much  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  to  do  in  the  latter  part  of  the  after- 
noons, on  the  Sabbath  day.  She  generally  went 
to  meeting  in  the  first  part  of  the  afternoons ;  for, 
in  the  country  where  she  lived,  going  to  church 
was  commonly  called  going  to  meeting.  After 
the  meeting,  Lucy  did  not  always  know  what  to 
do.  She  did  not  know  how  to  read,  and  her 
mother  did  not  like  to  have  her  play. 

One  Sabbath  afternoon,  she  had  been  sitting  in 
Miss  Anne's  room,  looking  at  a  picture-book  for 
some  time,  while  Miss  Anne  had  been  reading. 
At  last  she  put  down  her  book,  and  came  to  Miss 
Anne,  and  said, 

"  Miss  Anne,  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  some- 
thing to  do.     I  am  tired  of  looking  at  pictures." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "  and  I  am  tited  of 
reading ;  so  I  will  take  you  up  in  my  lap,  and  tell 
you  the  story  of  Victor's  Meeting." 


SABBATH    DAY.  137 

So  Miss  Anne  took  Lucy  up,  and  commenced 
the  story  as  follows :  — 


VICTOR'S   MEETING. 

One  Sunday  afternoon,  little  Victorine  was 
sitting  by  the  fire,  reading,  when  her  brother  Vic- 
tor came  to  her,  and  put  his  little  hand  gently 
upon  her  cheek,  and  said, 

"  Reeny," — he  often  called  her  Reeny,  —  it 
was  a  sort  of  contraction  of  Victorine, —  "I  am 
going  to  have  a  meeting ;  will  you  be  my  congre- 
gation ?  " 

In  the  part  of  the  world  where  Victor  lived 

going  to  church  was  generally  called   going  to 

meeting. 

.  i 

Victorine  looked  around,  mto  the  middle  of  the 

room,  and  she  saw  that  her  little  brother  had 
made  all  his  preparations  for  a  meeting.  He  had 
one  chair,  with  a  cricket  upon  it,  for  a  pulpit. 
The  large  Bible  was  lying  open  upon  the  cricket, 
and  there  was  a  hymn-book  by  its  side.  In  front 
of  the  pulpit,  at  a  little  distance  from  it,  were  three 
other  chairs  in  a  row,  with  a  music-book  and  the 
bellows  upon  one  of  them.  This  was  the  sing- 
ing gallery.  On  each  side  between  the  pulpit 
and  the  gallery,  chairs  were  arranged  for  the 
12* 


138  lucy's  stories. 

walls  of  the  meeting-house ;  and  within  Victor 
had  placed  two  or  three  small  chairs  and  crickets 
for  the  congregation  ;  and  now  he  wanted  his  sis- 
ter to  come  and  be  his  congregation. 

Victorine  looked  for  a  minute  or  two  at  his  ar- 
rangements, and  then  said, 

"  Why,  yes,  I'll  be  your  congregation." 

Victor  then  ran  back  to  his  meeting-house, 
while  Victorine  turned  her  eyes  again  to  her  book, 
and  went  on  with  her  reading. 

Presently  Victor  began  to  say,  "Ding-dong, 
ding-dong,  ding-dong,"  several  times ;  and  then, 
after  pausing  a  moment,  he  said, 

"  Come,  Reeny,  —  why  don't  you  come  ?  the 
bell  is  ringing." 

But  Victorine  was  so  much  interested  in  her 
book  that  she  did  not  notice  her  brother's  call. 

"  Victorine !  Victorine !  why  don't  you  come  ? " 

Victorine  looked  up,  and  said, 

"  O,  it  will  do  just  as  well  for  me  to  sit  here. 
I  can  hear  just  as  well  here." 

"  No,"  said  Victor ;  and  he  came  back  to 
where  his  sister  was  sitting,  and  took  hold  of  her 
arm,  and  said, 

"  No,  you  must  come  and  sit  in  the  meeting- 
house. The  congregation  always  sit  in  the  meet- 
ing-house." 


victor's  meeting.  139 

"  No,  not  always,"  said  Victorine. 

"When  do  they  not?"  asked  Victor. 

"  Why,  sometimes  the  meeting-house  is  crowd- 
ed, and  so  they  cannot  all  get  in.  We  will  play 
that  the  meeting-house  is  crowded." 

"  No,"  said  Victor,  "  that  will  not  do."  He 
understood  that  this  was  only  an  excuse  of  his 
sister's  for  not  coming  ;  and  so  he  insisted  that 
she  should  come  and  sit  in  the  proper  place. 

Victorine  then  slowly  got  up,  and  suffered  her 
brother  to  lead  her  into  his  meeting-house,  and 
place  her  upon  a  cricket  there. 

"  Why,  you  have  got  a  very  good  meeting- 
house ;   but  what  are  those  chairs  there  ? " 

"  They  are  the  singing  gallery,"  said  Victor. 

"  And  what  are  the>  bellows  here  for  ?  I  never 
saw  bellows  in  a  singing  'gallery." 

"  O,  that  is  the  base  viol,"  said  Victor.  "  They 
are  going  to  play  on  that,  when  I  give  out  the 
hymn." 

His  sister  smiled ;  but  she  took  her  seat,  and, 
while  Victor  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  his 
Bible  to  find  the  place,  she  opened  her  book,  and 
began  to  read  again. 

"  Why,  sister ! "  said  Victor.  "  You  must  not 
read.     People  do  not  read  in  meeting." 

"  O  yes,"  said  Victorine.     "  I  am  willing  to 


140 


sit  here  and  be  your  congregation,  but  then  you 
must  let  me  go  on  with  my  reading." 

Here  was  a  serious  difficulty.  Victorine  was 
very  much  interested  in  her  book,  and  she  thought 
that  Victor  was  unreasonable,  in  wishing  to  have 
her  give  it  up.  But  he  could  not  think  of  such  a 
thing  as  having  any  of  his  congregation  reading 
in  meeting.  At  last,  Victorine  said  that  then 
she  would  go  away  ;  and,  accordingly,  she  went 
back  to  her  seat,  and  Victor  began  to  cry. 

Now,  their  father  was  reading  by  the  side  of 
the  fire,  opposite  to  where  Victorine  was  sitting ; 
and  he  looked  up,  and  asked  what  was  the  matter. 
After  hearing  an  explanation  of  the  case,  he  told 
Victor  that  he  was  unreasonable.  "  Reeny  was 
very  kind  to  be  willing  to  go  and  sit  in  your  con- 
gregation," said  he ;  "  but  you  ought  not  to  expect 
her  to  give  up  her  own  pursuits  and  enjoyments 
entirely,  and  come  and  sit  down  idle  before  you. 
And  then,  besides,  when  you  found  that  she  was 
not  willing  to  come,  you  did  wrong  to  fret  and 
cry,  and  disturb  us  all  in  "our  reading." 

For  there  were  several  of  Victor's  brothers  and 
sisters  in  the  room,  reading,  besides  Victorine. 

Then  Victor's  father  told  him  that  he  must  put 
all  the  chairs  and  books  back  into  their  places, 
and  give  up  his  meeting  altogether. 


141 


Victor  begged  his  father  to  allow  him  to  go  on 
with  his  meeting  alone  ;  but  he  would  not.  His 
father  made  it  a  rule  that,  whenever  he  did  anything 
in  the  parlor  to  disturb  the  family,  he  must  suffer 
some  inconvenience  or  privation ;  and  this  made 
him  generally  careful  and  still  in  his  plays. 

Victor  put  back  the  chairs ;  but  he  did  it  very 
slowly  and  reluctantly,  and  was  evidently  much 
out  of  humour.  After  he  had  done  this,  his  father 
told  him  to  take  a  cricket,  and  go  and  sit  down  by 
the  kitchen  fire,  till  he  felt  good-natured  again ; 
and  he  said  that  then  he  might  come  in. 

Victor  found  that  they  were  getting  supper ; 
and  he  sat  and  watched  the  steam  coming  out  of 
the  nose  of  the  tea-kettle. 

Victor's  mother  was  getting  tea.  She  asked 
Victor  what  made  him  come  and  sit  down  there 
so  still. 

"  Why  — ,"  answered  Victor,  hesitating,  — 
tl  father  —  said  I  might." 

"  Father  said  you  might  ? " 

" No,  he  said  I  must" 

"  He  said  you  must  ?     What  for  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  said  I  must  come  and  stay  here  until 
I  felt  good-natured." 

"  O,  is  that  it  ? "  said  his  mother ;  "  well,  then, 
Til  make  you  feel  good-natured  very  quick." 


* 


142  lucy's  stories. 

Now,  there  were  two  long  peacock's  feathers 
hanging  over  the  glass  in  the  kitchen,  and  Victor's 
mother  went  and  took  one  down. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  said  Victor. 

"  I  am  going  to  tickle  your  nose  with  this 
feather,"  said  his  mother,  "  to  make  you  feel 
good-natured." 

"  No,"  said  Victor,  laughing,  though  he  tried 
to  keep  sober. 

"  Yes,"  said  his  mother,  laughing,  without  try 
ing  to  keep  sober. 

As  she  approached  with  the  feather,  extending 
the  tip  of  it  towards  him,  he  first  held  his  hand 
over  his  face,  peeping  and  smiling  through  his 
fingers ;  and  then,  as  the  feather  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  he  jumped  up  and  ran  away  in  high  glee. 
His  mother  pursued  him  across  the  room ;  but  he 
made  his  escape  out  of  the  door  which  led  into 
the  entry.  His  mother  did  not  follow  him.  In  a 
minute  or  two,  he  came  back,  and  opened  the  door 
a  little  way,  and  peeped  in.  His  mother  was  at 
the  table  cutting  some  bread. 

"  Victor,"  said  she,  "  I  forgot  that  it  was  Sun- 
day; we  must  not  play  to-day.  But  now,  as 
you  seem  to  be  good-natured,  I  suppose  you  can 
go  back  into  the  parlor  again,  if  you  choose." 

Victor  thought  so  too.     He  accordingly  went 


143 


back,  and  asked  his  father  if  he  might  have  his 
meeting  again. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  said  his  father.  "  I 
don't  like  to  have  you  play  meeting  very  well.', 

"  Why  not,  father  ?  "  said  he.  "  I  will  be  care- 
ful not  to  disturb  any  body." 

"  Perhaps  you  will ;  but  I  should  rather  have 
yoi»play  something  else." 

"  Why,  is  it  wrong,  father,"  said  Victorine,  "  to 
play  meeting  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  is  absolutely  wrong ;  but 
it  seems  to  be  too  serious  a  thing  to  make  sport 
of.  I'll  tell  you  what ;  you  may  collect  all  the 
children  together  on  the  sofa,  and  we  will  have  a 
real  meeting.     I  will  be  the  minister  myself." 

Victor  was  much  pleased  with  this  plan.  Af- 
ter tea,  he  placed  the  sofa  and  some  chairs  in 
order,  and  then  rang  a  little  bell,  to  call  the  chil- 
dren together.  The  children  sat  upon  the  sofa 
and  upon  little  chairs,  and  their  father  sat  before 
them,  with  the  great  Bible  in  his  lap.  First  he 
read  a  prayer  out  of  a  little  prayer-book  which  he 
had,  telling  the  children  that  they  must  listen  seri- 
ously. Then  he  let  one  of  them  stand  by  his 
side  and  read  a  story  in  the  Bible,  while  he  ex 
plained  it  to  them.  Then  he  let  Victor  read  two 
verses  of  a  hymn,  and  they  all  sang  it.     Then  he 


144  lucy's  stories. 

said  that  for  a  sermon  he  would  explain  to  them 
the  Savior's  golden  rule  —  "  Whatsoever  ye  would 
that  others  should  do  unto  you,  do  ye  even  so 
unto  them." 

"  Is  that  your  text  ?  "  said  Victor. 
"  Yes,"  said  his  father,  "  that  is  the  text." 
Then  he  explained  the  text  to  them,  and 
showed  them  how  excellent  a  rule  it  was,  and, told 
them  of  the  various  ways  in  which  children  often 
break  it.  The  discourse  was  very  interesting  and 
profitable.  After  the  sermon  was  ended,  he  said 
that  they  would  sing  another  hymn.  He  then  se- 
lected a  hymn  in  the  hymn-book,  and  let  one  of 
the  boys  read  it,  and  then  they  all  sang  it.  There 
were  four  verses.  After  the  singing  was  over, 
the  meeting  was  dismissed,  and  the  children  went 
away,  all  excepting  Victor,  who  remained,  at  his 
father's  request,  to  trundle  back  the  sofa,  and  put 
away  the  chairs. 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  said   Lucy,  when  she  found 

that  Miss  Anne  paused,  as  if  she  had  finished  the 

story. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Anne,  "  that  is  all." 
"Well,"  said  Lucy,  "I  think  that  is  a  very 

good  plan.     I  wish  you  would  have  a  meeting 

some  time,  Miss  Anne,  for  me." 


SABBATH    DAY.  145 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  it  is  proper  for  young 
ladies  to  hold  meetings,"  said  Miss  Anne. 

*  Well,  it  will  be  proper  for  my  father,"  said 
Lucy,  "  at  any  rate.  I  mean  to  ask  my  father. 
But  will  you  be  one  of  the  congregation,  Miss 
Anne?" 

"  O   yes,"   said   Miss    Anne,   "  I   will    very 
cheerfully  be  one  of  the  congregation." 
13 


146 


CHAPTER    XII. 


RACHEL. 


BY     LUCY     S     MOTHE 


Once  there  was  a  little  girl  named  Rachel. 
She  was  about  six  years  old.  She  had  a  great 
many  books  and  playthings,  but  they  were  lying 
about  in  various  places  all  over  the  house. 

One  day  she  went  to  see  her  cousin.  Her 
cousin's  playthings  were  all  together,  upon  some 
shelves.  They  were  arranged  in  order.  "O 
dear  !  "  said  Rachel,  "  how  much  prettier  play- 
things look  when  they  are  arranged  in  order  1  I 
wish  I  had  some  shelves." 

A  few  days  after  this,  she  was  at  home  one 
afternoon,  when  there  was  no  school.  She  did 
not  know  what  to  do.  She  had  nobody  to  play 
with.  She  could  not  go  out  of  doors,  because  it 
joined.  At  last  she  said,  "  I  know  what  to  do. 
I  will  go  and  put  my  playthings  in  order." 

She  went  up  into  a  rough  chamber  over  the 
shed,  where  there  were  some  boxes.     She  put 


RACHEL.  147 

down  one  of  the  boxes  against  the  side  of  the 
chamber,  with  the  open  side  out.  Then  she  put 
another  box  upon  the  top  of  it.  So  she  could 
put  her  playthings  in  the  boxes,  which  answered 
for  shelves. 

First,  she  got  her  blocks.  She  had  a  great 
many  blocks.  Some  were  in  the  kitchen,  some 
were  in  the  closet,  some  were  in  a  basket  under 
the  table  in.  the  parlor.  One  was  under  the 
clock.  Rachel  had  put  it  under  the  clock  some 
days  before,  to  play  that  it  was  a  mouse. 

Rachel  collected  all  her  blocks  together,  ana 
carried  them  up  to  her  shelves.  She  piled  them 
up  neatly  upon  the  lower  shelf  at  one  end. 
They  made  a  large,  square  pile. 

"  There,"  said  she,  "I  am  glad  that  I  have 
got  all  my  blocks  together,  in  one  place." 

Then  she  brought  her  doll ;  and  she  looked  all 
about  the  house,  and  found  all  the  doll's  clothes, 
and  she  put  them  together  in  a  shelf  above. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  when  my  cousin  comes 
here  to  play  with  me,  and  we  want  to  play  with 
my  doll,  I  shall  find  her  and  all  her  things  here. 
That  will  be  very  convenient." 

Next  Rachel  thought  she  would  put  her  books 
in  order  So  she  went  down  stairs,  and  began  to 
look  for  her  books.     She  found  them  in  various 


148  lucy's  stories. 

places,  some  on  shelves,  some  in  closets,  and  some 
on  the  parlor  floor.  She  brought  them  all  up  into 
the  rough  chamber,  and  began  to  put  them  to- 
gether neatly  in  a  pile. 

Pretty  soon  she  observed  a  droll  picture  in  one 
of  her  books.  It  was  a  picture  of  a  dog  jumping 
up.  She  thought  she  would  read  about  it.  So 
she  sat  down  upon  the  floor  before  her  boxes,  and 
began  to  spell  out  the  words  under  the  picture. 

While  she  was  there,  her  mother  came  up  into 
the  chamber  to  look  for  something  in  a  great  bag. 
While  she  was  looking  for  it,  Rachel  said, 

"  Mother,  what  does  this  word  spell  ?  —  m,  — 
there  are  one,  two,  three  rrfs  in  it,  and  two  a's" 

" I  think  it  must  be  mamma"  said  her  mother. 
"  But  what  are  you  doing,  Rachel  ? " 

"O,  I  am  putting  my  things  in  order,"  said 
Rachel. 

Then  her  mother  came  to  see  what  she  was 
doing. 

" O,"  said  she,  "I  am  very  glad  to  see  this. 
It  is  a  fine  plan  for  children  to  keep  their  play- 
things in  order." 

So  Rachel's  mother  came  to  see  her  work,  and 
she  said  she  liked  the  plan  very  much  indeed, 
and  she  told  her  that  she  would  give  her  a  curtain 
to  hang  up  before  her  shelves. 


RACHEL.  149 

Her  mother  then  went  back  to  the  bag,  and 
took  out  a  green  roll.  When  she  unrolled  it,  Ra- 
chel saw  it  was  a  curtain.  Rachel  took  it,  and 
then  went  and  brought  a  few  small  tacks  and  a 
carpet  hammer,  and  nailed  her  curtain  up.  Then 
she  finished  arranging  her  books,  and  put  them  in. 
Thus  she  had  a  very  convenient  cabinet ;  and 
she  resolved  that,  after  that,  she  would  always 
keep  her  things  in  order  in  it. 

That  night,  at  supper,  Rachel  told  her  mother 
that  she  liked  her  cabinet  very  much,  and  she 
said  she  had  made  a  resolution  always  to  keep  her 
things  in  order  in  it. 

"Ah,"  said  her  mother,  "but  that's  a  very 
hard  resolutron  to  keep." 

"  O  no,"  said  Rachel,  "  I  think  it  will  be  very 
easy.  All  I  have  to  do  is  just  to  put  my  things 
back  in  their  places  when  I  have  done  with  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  her  mother,  "  that  is  all ;  but  that 
is  a  great  deal." 

"O  no,  mother,"  said  Rachel,  "that  is  not 
much." 

"  Well,"  said  her  mother,  "  we  shall  see." 

It  turned  out  in  the  end  that  her  mother  was 
right;  for  in  about  two  weeks  Rachel's  play- 
things were  scattered  all  over  the  house  again, 
13* 


150 


as   much   as  before.     And  the  way  they  came 
to  be  so  was  this :  — 

The  day  after  she  had  put  them  in  order,  she 
brought  her  blocks  down  in  a  basket,  to  play  with 
in  the  entry.  At  last,  she  got  tired  of  playing 
with  the  blocks,  and  she  thought  she  would  go 
out  in  the  kitchen,  and  see  if  she*  could  not  get  an 
apple  to  roast  by  the  kitchen  fire.  So  she  left 
her  blocks  upon  the  carpet.  Presently  her  moth- 
er put  the  blocks  into  the  basket,  and  slid  them 
under  a  shelf  in  the  closet;  and  thus  it  was 
that  her  blocks  got  out  of  place. 

A  day  or  two  after  that,  she  wanted  a  book  to 
read  ;  and  so  she  went  up  to  her  cabinet,  and, 
when  she  had  pulled  the  curtain  aside,  she  took 
all  her  picture-books,  and  brought  them  down 
stairs.  She  put  them  upon  the  table,  and  got 
a  chair,  and  sat  up  to  the  table,  and  began  to  look 
them  over,  to  find  one  to  read.  After  she  had 
been  reading  a  little  while,  the  supper  bell  rang ; 
and  so  she  jumped  down,  and  ran  off  to  supper. 
After  supper,  she  forgot  that  she  had  left  her  books 
upon  the  table  ;  and  when  her  mother  was  arran- 
ging the  table  that  evening,  for  her  evening  work, 
she  put  the  books  upon  a  shelf  in  the  closet ;  and 
that  is  the  way  her  books  got  out  of  place. 

And  one  dav  Rachel  thought  she  would  take 


RACHEL.  151 

her  doll  down  stairs,  and  let  her  go  out  to  walk  ; 
so  she  led  her  out  upon  the  grass  in  the  yard,  and 
played  that  she  was  taking  a  walk.  When  she 
thought  that  her  doll  was  tired  of  walking,  she  let 
her  lie  down  upon  the  grass  to  rest.  Presently  a 
butterfly  came  along,  and  Rachel  ran  off  to  catch 
him.  The  butterfly  flew  over  the  fence  into  the 
garden  ;  and  Rachel  went  in  at  the  gate,  and  tried 
to  find  him.  She  could  not  find  the  butterfly; 
but  she  found  her  mother  there  gathering  some 
flower  seeds.  She  stopped  to  help  her ;  and  her 
mother  gave  her  some  seeds,  which  she  said  she 
meant  to  put  away  upon  her  shelves,  in  little 
papers.  But  she  put  them  on  the  kitchen  table, 
when  she  went  in,  and  forgot  them. 

A  few  days  after  this,  her  cousin  William  came 
to  see  her.  She  took  him  up  stairs  to  show  him 
her  shelves  and  playthings.  She  took  out  the 
things  one  by  one,  and  showed  them  to  William, 
and  then  put  them  on  the  floor.  William  took 
out  some  of  the  things  too.  She  was  going  to 
put  them  all  back  again  before  she  went  away. 
Presently  she  said,  "  But  where  are  all  m\ 
books  ?  Somebody  has  taken  away  all  my 
books.  I  put  them  here  on  the  corner  of  this 
shelf.  They  ought  not  to  come  and  take  away 
my  books." 


152 


And  presently  she  said  again, 

"  And  now,  besides,  where's  my  doll  gone  ? 
They  have  carried  off  my  doll.  I  wish  they  would 
let  my  things  alone,  when  I  put  them  here." 

"  I  rather  think  you  carried  her  away  yourself," 
said  William. 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  said  Rachel ;  "  1  left  her  here, 
—  exactly  here." 

Then,  in  a  minute,  she  happened  to  recollect  that 
she  had  taken  her  doll  out  to  walk,  and  said, 

"  O  no,  —  I  remember  now.  I  left  her  on  the 
grass.  Come  with  me,  William,  and  I  will  show 
you." 

So  William  and  Rachel  ran  down  to  find  the 
doll.  She  was  lying  in  the  grass,  where  Rachel 
had  put  her.  She  was  soaked  with  the  rain ;  and 
when  Rachel  took  her  up,  she  found  that  there 
were  two  great  crickets  hid  under  her.  Rachel 
said  it  was  no  matter ;  it  would  not  hurt  her  doll, 
for  she  was  used  to  being  left  out  in  the  rain. 
So  she  carried  her  in,  in  order  to  dry  her  by 
the  kitchen  fire. 

The  next  evening,  after  tea,  RachePs  mother 
said  to  her, 

"  Rachel,  you  remember  that  you  told  me,  the 
other  day,  that  you  had  made  a  resolution  to  keep 
your  shelves  always  in  order." 


RACHEL.  153 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Rachel. 

"  And  I  told  you  that  you  would  find  it  a  very 
hard  resolution  to  keep." 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  recollect  that  you  did." 

"  Well,  now,  it  is  not  a  great  many  days  since 
then,  and  yet  your  establishment  is  all  in  confu- 
sion. Your  doll  is  in  the  table  drawer  in  the 
kitchen.  Your  blocks  and  your  books  are  down 
in  the  parlor  closets ;  and,  as  I  went  through  the 
rough  chamber  this  afternoon,  I  saw  that  the  rest 
of  your  playthings  were  all  in  confusion  about 
the  floor." 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Rachel,  "  I  was  going  to 
put  them  up,  but  I  had  to  go  and  look  for  my 
dolL" 

Rachel's  mother  did  not  reply  to  this  very  un- 
satisfactory excuse.     She  only  said, 

"  It  is  not  a  very  difficult  thing  to  put  things  in 
order.  But  to  keep  them  in  order,  requires  a 
great  deal  of  steady  perseverance,  energy,  and 
decision." 


154  lucy's  stories. 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
MARIELLE'S  LITTLE   BOOK. 

Marielle  had  told  Lucy,  some  time  before 
this,  that,  when  Mary  Jay  got  her  great  Morocco 
Book  to  put  her  stories  in,  she  gave  away  to  the 
children  several  of  the  little  books  which  she  had 
made  before,  after  having  first  copied  them  into 
the  Morocco  Book ;  and  that,  among  others,  she 
had  given  Marielle  one,  called  the  Story  of  Alice. 
Marielle  had  promised  Lucy  that  she  would,  some 
day,  show  her  this  little  book,  and  lead  her  the 
story. 

Now,  Marielle  lived  at  the  house  where  the 
school  was  kept;  and  the  garden  where  they 
played,  was  her  father's  gaiden.  And  one  day 
she  told  Lucy  that  her  mother  was  going  to  invite 
Miss  Anne  and  Lucy  to  come  and  take  tea  there 
the  next  afternoon;  and  then  she  would  read  her 
the  story  of  Alice. 

The  invitation  was  accordingly  given,  and  Miss 
Anne  and  Lucy  went.     They  went  very  early, 


155 


because  they  wanted  to  ramble  an  hour  or  two 
about  the  garden  and  grounds. 

After  they  had  been  in  the  house  about  half  an 
hour,  Miss  Anne,  Marielle,  and  Lucy,  went  out 
to  take  a  walk.  Marielle  said  that  she  wanted  to 
take  them  away  down  beyond  the  garden,  by  the 
shore  of  a  brook,  where  Lucy  had  never  been. 
They  walked  about  in  the  garden  for  some  time. 
Lucy  showed  Marielle  the  great  pear-tree,  and 
the  summer-house,  and  the  arbor,  and  the  green 
square,  where  the  children  used  to  play  hide-and- 
seek. 

After  they  had  seen  all  these  places,  they  passed 
on  through  a  little  grove  of  trees  at  the  bottom  of 
the  garden,  and  then  they  went  through  a  gate  in 
the  garden  wall,  and  came  out  into  a  beautiful 
field  beyond,  where  a  broad  walk  led  along  down 
to  a  brook.  Here  was  a  seat,  where  they  sat 
down  to  rest.  Marielle  then  took  out  her  little 
book.  It  was  small,  and  had  marble  covers ;  and 
the  story  was  written  in  it  in  very  fine,  but  very 
plain  writing. 

There  was  a  picture  in  the  beginning.  It  was 
a  picture  of  a  little  girl  in  a  boat  near  the  bank 
of  a  river.  They  all  looked  at  the  picture  for 
some  time,  before  they  began  to  read.  Miss 
Anne  seemed  to  be  very  much  interested  in  the 


156  lucy's   stories. 

appearance  of  the  book,  and  in  the  picture.  At 
last  they  asked  Miss  Anne  to  read  the  story  to 
them,  as  she  could  read  the  best.  So  Miss  Anne 
began  as  follows :  — 

THE   STORY    OF  ALICE ;  OR,   SELF-POSSESSION. 

In  a  little  valley  by  the  side  of  a  river,  just 
where  there  was  a  great  curve  in  the  stream, 
there  was  a  farm  ;  the  land  consisted  of  beautiful 
intervals  near  the  river,  and  high  hills  and  forests 
behind.  From  the  windows  of  the  farm-house, 
you  could  look  up  the  river,  or  down  the  river,  a 
great  many  miles. 

There  was  a  little  girl  that  lived  in  this  farm- 
house, named  Alice.  She  was  about  five  years 
old.  She  used  to  play  about  the  farm-yard, 
sometimes  feeding  the  chickens,  and  sometimes 
planting  corn  and  beans  in  a  little  bed  they  gave 
her  in  the  garden.  She  was  quiet  and  good-na- 
tured ;  and  so  her  father  would  often  take  her  out 
with  him  into  the  fields,  when  he  went  to  work. 
At  such  times,  she  would  play  about  upon  the 
grass,  and  take  good  care  not  to  be  in  her  father's 
way,  nor  trouble  him  by  talking  to  him  too  much 
when  he  was  busy.  She  would  talk  to  herself, 
and    sing   to    herself,  and  find   amusement   in  a 


THE     STORY    OF    ALICE.  157 

thousand  ways,  without  troubling  him.  And  so 
he  was  very  often  glad  to  have  her  go  with  him. 

The  farmer  used  sometimes  to  paddle  across 
the  river  in  his  log  canoe,  to  go  to  a  village 
which  was  about  half  a  mile  from  the  opposite 
shore.  The  log  canoe  was  a  very  good  boat. 
It  was  made  of  a  very  large  log,  and  so  it  was 
big  enough  to  carry  quite  a  number  of  people.  It 
was  shaped  well,  and  it  had  three  good  seats,  and 
a  little  deck  at  the  bows.  There  were  a  paddle 
and  two  oars,  and  on  the  deck  there  was  a  pretty 
large,  round  stone,  as  big  as  a  man's  head,  with 
a  rope  fastened  to  it.  The  other  end  of  the  rope 
was  fastened  to  the  bows  of  the  boat.  This 
stone  was  the  anchor.  The  farmer  could  anchor 
his  boat  with  it  when  he  wanted  to  go  a-fishing 
anywhere  out  on  the  river,  where  the  water  was 
not  very  deep,  nor  the  current  very  rapid. 

One  day,  Alice  asked  her  father  to  let  her  go 
over  the  river  with  him,  in  his  boat.  And  he 
said  that  he  should  like  to  have  her  go  very  much. 
Only  he  told  her  that  he  could  not  let  her  go  to  the 
town  with  him.  She  would  have  to  wait  in  the 
boat,  he  said,  while  he  was  gone.  She  asked 
him  how  long  he  should  be  gone  from  the  boat,, 
and  he  said  about  half  an  hour. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  I  can  take  one  of  my 
14 


158 


books,  and  look  at  the  pictures  while  you  are 
gone." 

So  she  got  into  the  canoe  with  him,  and  he 
paddled  her  over  the  river. 

When  they  reached  the  opposite  shore,  Alice's 
father  stepped  out,  and  took  hold  of  the  anchor 
rope,  pretty  near  where  it  was  fastened  to  the 
boat,  and,  pulling  pretty  hard,  he  drew  the  bows 
of  the  boat  up  a  little  upon  the  sand.  Then  he 
told  Alice  to  take  out  her  book,  and  amuse  her- 
self as  well  as  she  could,  until  he  came  back. 
So  Alice  sat  down  upon  a  low  seat,  which  her 
father  had -made  on  purpose  for  her,  and  opened 
her  book,  while  her  father  went  to  a  path  which 
led  up  the  bank,  and  soon  disappeared. 

It  would  have  been  safer  if  the  farmer,  instead 
of  merely  drawing  the  boat  up  upon  the  beach, 
had  taken  out  the  anchor,  and  just  laid  that  upon 
the  shore.  It  is  true  that,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, drawing  the  boat  up  a  little  way  would 
have  been  enough.  But  there  was  one  circum- 
stance which  rendered  this  mode  of  fastening  the 
boat,  at  this  time,  very  insecure ;  and  that  was, 
that  the  water  was  rising.  It  was  rising  very 
slowly,  but  still  it  was  rising.  The  cause  of  this 
rising  was,  that  there  had  been  some  rains  among 
the  .mountains.,  where  the  brooks  began  to  run, 


THE    STORY    OF    ALioE.  161 

which  made  this  river,  though  it  had  been  very 
pleasant  weather  where  the  fanner  lived ;  and 
thus  the  water  in  the  river  was  rising;,  though  the 
farmer  did  not  know  it.  Accordingly,  when  he 
went  up  the  bank,  and  left  little  Alice  in  the 
boat,  there  was  considerable  danger  that  the  wa- 
ter might  rise,  and  float  her  away. 

And  then,  besides,  after  her  father  had  gone, 
Alice  sometimes  got  tired  of  looking  over  her 
book ;  and  then  she  amused  herself  in  looking 
around,  —  up  and  down  the  river,  and  back  to 
her  father's  farm.  In  doing  so,  she  changed  her 
position  a  little,  though  she  did  not  actually  leave 
her  seat.  This  movement  of  hers  naturally  gave 
a  little  motion  to  the  boat,  and  tended  to  work  it 
loose  in  the  sand,  as  the  water  rose,  and  gradually 
buoyed  it  up. 

At  length,  as  Alice  was  looking  over  the  side 
of  the  canoe,  at  the  pebbles  in  the  water  under 
ihat  part  of  the  boat  where  she  was  sitting,  she 
thought  the  pebbles  all  seemed  to  be  moving  in 
towards  the  shore.  She  wondered  what  this 
strange  phenomenon  could  be.  The  pebbles 
glided  slowly  along,  and  the  water  seemed  to  be 
growing  deeper  —  appearances  which  puzzled 
Alice  very  much,  until  she  looked  up,  and  found 
that  the  boat  was  slowly  floating  away  from  the 
14* 


162  lucy's  stories. 

shore.  It  was  this  motion  of  the  boat  away  from 
the  shore  which  caused  the  apparent  motion  of 
the  pebbles  towards  it. 

The  first  feeling  which  Alice  had  was,  that  she 
was  having  a  beautiful  little  sail ;  but  in  a  very 
few  minutes  she  began  to  be  afraid  that  she  should 
not  be  able  to  get  back. 

"  Ah,"  said  she,  "  I  know  what  I'll  do.  I'll 
paddle.     I  know  how  to  paddle." 

A  paddle  is  somewhat  like  an  oar,  only  it  is 
shorter  and  lighter,  and  has  a  broad,  thin  blade. 
She  took  the  paddle,  and  went  to  the  seat  where 
her  father  usually  sat,  and  tried  to  work  it.  But 
she  could  not  succeed.  She  could  make  the  boat 
go  a  little,  but  it  did  not  go  at  all  towards  the 
shore  ;  it  seemed,  on  the  other  hand,  to  move  far- 
ther and  farther  from  it. 

Alice  then  put  the  paddle  back  in  the  boat, 
and  sat  down  upon  her  own  little  seat  again,  and 
the  tears  began  to  come  into  her  eyes.  She  did 
not  know  what  would  become  of  her.  The  boat 
went  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  shore,  and 
when  she  looked  for  the  place  where  it  had  been 
drawrn  up,  she  found  that  it  was  getting  to  be  so 
far  off  that  she  could  scarcely  distinguish  it.  And 
in  the  mean  time,  as  her  boat  floated  slowly  down 
the  stream,  the  banks,  and  rocks,  and  trees  upon 


THE     STORY    OF    ALICE.  163 

tne  shore,  seemed  to  glide  along  as  if  the  whole 
country  was  in  motion. 

Alice  soon  reflected  that  it  would  do  no  good 
to  cry;  and  so  she  wiped  away  the  tears,  and 
began  to  consider  what  would  probably  become 
of  her.  She  saw  that  she  was  drifting  down, 
down  very  far,  and  she  wondered  where  it  was 
that  the  river  went  to,  in  the  end ;  for  she 
knew  that  she  must  go  there,  at  last,  wherever  it 
was,  unless  she  could  get  stopped  in  some  way. 
Then  she  thought  that  perhaps  somebody  might 
see  her  from  the  shore,  and  come  out  to  her,  — 
somebody  that  would  know  how  to  paddle,  and 
so  be  able  to  paddle  her  back  to  the  shore.  But 
then,  again,  she  did  not  see  how  they  could  get 
out  to  her,  if  they  should  see  her.  Then  she 
thought  that,  perhaps,  in  going  down  the  river,  the 
boat  might  accidentally  get  nearer  and  nearer  to 
one  bank  or  the  other,  and  especially  that,  at 
some  place  where  the  river  turned,  the  boat  might, 
perhaps,  keep  on,  and  so  come  to  the  shore. 

While  she  was  thinking  of  these  things,  she 
kept  still  sailing  down  farther  and  farther ;  until, 
at  length,  she  saw  before  her  a  kind  of  a  bend  in 
the  river,  and  there  was  a  point  of  land  on  one 
side,  which  stretched  out  almost  before  where 
her  boat  was  going. 


164  lucy's  stories. 

"Ah,"  said  Alice,  "I  shall  run  against  that 
point  of  land,  and  then  I  can  get  out." 

The  boat  went  on,  directly  towards  the  end  of 
the  point,  and  Alice  could  not  tell  whether  it  was 
going  to  come  against  it  and  stop,  or  just  go  by. 
The  point  was  rocky.  As  the  canoe  came  nearer, 
she  saw  that  it  was  just  going  by  it,  barely  touch- 
ing. As  it  glided  slowly  along,  Alice  put  out  her 
hand  to  get  hold  of  the  corner  of  a  rock,  and  stop 
herself.  But  the  canoe  pulled  so  hard  that  it 
pulled  her  hand  away.  Alice  that  instant  thought 
of  her  father's  boat-hook.  The  boat-hook  was  a 
pole,  not  very  long,  with  a  hook  in  one  end  of  it ; 
and  she  remembered  that  her  father  used  to  hook 
this  into  something  or  other  upon  the  shore,  when- 
ever he  wished  to  land.  She  got  the  boat-hook 
up  as  quick  as  she  could,  but  it  was  too  late. 
Before  she  could  get  it  reached  out  towards  the 
rock,  the  boat  had  got  so  far  away  that  she  could 
not  get  hold  of  it :  the  end  dropped  into  the  wa- 
ter, and  she  had  reached  out  so  far  that  the  boat 
tipped  over  very  much  to  one  side  ;  and  Alice 
suddenly  let  go  the  end  of  the  pole  which  she 
had  in  her  hand,  in  order  to  catch  hold  of  the 
side  of  the  boat.  Of  course,  the  boat-hook 
dropped  entirely  into  the  water,  and  began  to 
float  away.     Alice   tried   to   reach  it   with   the 


THE    STORY    OF     ALICE.  165 

paddle,  but  she  could  not.  She  was  very  much 
concerned  at  the  loss  of  her  father's  boat-hook. 

Alice  was  now  quite  disheartened,  and  did  not 
know  what  to  do ;  but,  as  she  was  sitting  upon 
her  seat,  musing  upon  her  sad  situation,  her  eye 
happened  to  fall  upon  the  great  round  stone, 
which  served  for  an  anchor,  and  which  was  upon 
the  bows  of  the  canoe.  "  Ah,"  said  she,  "  I'll 
anchor.     That's  what  I'll  do." 

So  she  went  forward  to  the  anchor,  and  began 
to  roll  it  over  towards  the  edge  of  the  boat.  In 
a  moment,  however,  she  recollected  that  when 
she  had  been  out  with  her  father,  fishing,  he  had 
said  that  he  could  not  anchor  his  boat,  except 
where  the  water  was  so  shallow  that  he  could 
see  the  bottom.  So  she  looked  down  into  the 
water,  to  see  if  she  could  see  the  bottom.  She 
could  not.  The  water  was  dark  and  deep.  So 
she  knew  it  would  do  no  good  to  put  the  anchor 
in  there. 

She  then  thought  she  would  wait  and  see  if 
the  boat  would  not  come  over  some  shallow  place, 
as  it  moved  along.  So  she  sat  down  by  the  side 
of  the  stone,  and  watched  the  water.  She  did 
not  have  to  wait  a  great  while  ;  for  presently  she 
observed  that  the  water  began  to  have  a  yellow- 
ish tinge,  which  was  given  to  it  by  the  light  re- 


166  LUCY'S    STORIES. 

fleeted  from  the  sand  below.  It  grew  brighter 
and  brighter,  and  presently  the  dim  form  of  a 
large  log,  which  was  lying  upon  the  bottom,  glided 
into  view.  Very  soon  Alice  could  see  the  sand 
and  the  pebbles  very  distinctly ;  and  she  rose  from 
her  seat,  saying, 

"  Now  I'll  let  the  anchor  go." 

She  exerted  all  her  strength,  and  rolled  the 
stone  over  the  bows.  It  plunged  into  the  water 
with  a  great  noise  and  spattering.  The  rope  ran 
out  after  it  very  fast,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  the 
boat  stopped,  and  the  current  of  the  water  began 
to  ripple  fast  against  the  bows  and  along  its  sides. 

"  There,"  said  Alice  ;  "  now  if  somebody 
would  only  come  and  get  me!" 

She  waited  here  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  looking  about,  sometimes  up  and  down  the 
river,  and  sometimes  across  to  the  banks  on  each 
side,  in  hopes  to  see  somebody  coming.  At  last, 
as  she  was  looking  up  the  river,  she  thought  she 
saw  something  black  upon  the  water.  She  looked 
at  it  attentively.  Presently  she  could  perceive 
that  there  was  something  moving  in  it  or  about 
it.  She  soon  made  it  out  to  be  a  boat,  with  oars 
working  briskly  in  the  water  on  each  side.  It 
was  coming  directly  towards  her.  Alice  was 
very  glad.     She  determined  that  as  soon  as  they 


THE    STORY    OF    ALICE.  107 

should  come  pretty  near,  she  would  speak  to 
them,  and  ask  them  to  paddle  her  back  to  hei 
father's. 

As  the  boat  came  on  towards  her,  Alice  ob- 
served that  one  of  the  rowers  stopped  rowing,  and 
stood  up  in  the  boat,  looking  towards  her.  Alice 
perceived  that  it  was  her  father ;  and  just  at  the 
same  instant,  he  saw  her,  and  called  out, 

"  Alice !  " 

Alice  answered, 

"  Here  I  am,  father,  — -  all  safe,  —  only  I  have 
lost  your  boat-hook.     But  I  am  very  sorry." 

Her  father  was  very  glad  indeed  to  find  her 
safe  again.  When  he  found  that  the  boat  was 
gone  from  the  place  where  he  had  left  it,  lie  was 
very  much  alarmed;  he  supposed  that  the  boat 
had  drifted  away,  and  he  was  afraid  his  little 
Alice  had  got  drowned.  He,  however,  went  as 
quick  as  he  could,  and  got  another  boat,  and  an- 
other man,  too,  to  help  him  row,  so  that  he  could 
go  down  the  river  faster.  He  was  therefore  ex- 
ceedingly glad  when  he  found  her  safely  anchored, 
and  he  told  her  that  he  did  not  care  anything 
about  the  boat-hook  at  all. 


168 


CHAPTER    XIV. 
PLAYING  COLLEGE. 

A     STORY      FROM     THE     MOROCCO     BOOK. 

Anna  and  George  were  one  evening  playing 
around  the  fire  just  before  tea,  when  their  father 
came  in  and  took  his  seat  in  the  great  arm-chair, 
waiting  for  the  tea  bell  to  ring. 

Anna  and  George  both  came  to  him,  and  want 
ed  him  to  have  a  play. 

"  Well,  what  shall  we  play  ?  "  said  their  father. 

"  Let  us  play  lion  and  old  man,"  said  Anna. 

il  No,"  said  her  father,  "  that  is  a  noisy  play, 
and  I  do  not  feel  like  a  noisy  play  just  now. 
We'll  play  college:' 

"Play  college  ?"  said  George.  "  O,  I  don't 
know  how  to  play  college." 

"  But  I  will  tell  you.  You  shall  be  the  class, 
and  I  will  be  the  Professor  of  Philosophy.  The 
class  in  college  come  together,  and  sit  very  quiet 
and  still  while  the  Professor  gives  them  a  lecture 
in  Philosophy,  and  explains  something  to  them 
which  they  did  not  understand  before ;  and  then 
he  asks  them  questions,  to  see  if  they  remember 
what  he  has  told  them." 

So  Anna  and  George  brought  their  crickets, 
and  sat  down  before  their  father,  and  listened  very 
gravely  while  he  lectured  them  as  follows :  — 

"The  subject  of  this  lecture,  young  gentle 
men, " 


PLAYING    COLLEGE.  169 

"  I  am  not  a  young  gentleman,"  said  Anna. 

"  No,  but  we  play  that  you  are,"  said  George. 

"  The  subject  of  my  lecture,"  continued  their 
father,  "is  the  fire." 

Here  George  and  Anna  both  looked  at  the 
bright  fire  which  was  burning  in  the  fireplace. 

"  When  a  fire  like  that  is  burning,"  continued 
their  father,  "  there  is  a  kind  of  hot,  smoky  air 
produced,  which  is  not  good  to  breathe.  It  would 
strangle  us." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  strangle  1  "  asked 
George.  He  was  a  small  boy,  and  he  did  not 
understand  language  very  well. 

"  Why,  it  would  produce  a  kind  of  choking, 
stifling;  feeling,  and  make  us  catch  our  breath 
and  cough ;  and  at  last,  if  we  could  not  get  any 
other  air  to  breathe,  we  should  sink  down  and 
die  ;  so  that,  if  there  was  a  tight  room  made, 
with  a  brick  floor,  and  a  fire  was  made  upon 
the  floor,  and  people  were  shut  up  in  the  room, 
it  would  in  a' short  time  kill  them." 

"  The  smoke  would  kill  them  ?  "  said  George. 

"  It  would  not  be  altogether  the  smoke.  Smoke 
is  what  we  can  see  rising  up  from  a  fire ;  but  there 
is  something  else,  called  a  gas,  or  rather  there  are 
several  kinds  of  gas,  which  come  from  a  fire ;  and 
these  gases  and  the  smoke  together  are  what 
would  strangle  us  if  we  should  breathe  them. 
Now,  it  follows  from  this,  that  if  we  wish  to  have 
a  fire  in  a  room,  we  must  have  some  way  for  the 
smoke  and  the  gases  to  go  off,  or  we  shall  bfl 
choked  and  strangled  by  them. 
15 


170 


LUCY'S    STORIES. 


"  The  way  we  contrive  to  let  them  off  is  by  a 
chimney.  The  chimney  has  an  opening  through 
it,  from  the  top  to  the  bottom.  This  opening  is 
called  a  flue.  The  smoke  and  the  gases  can  go 
up  this  flue.  It  must  be  built  of  something  that 
will  not  burn,  or  else  the  sparks  might  set  it  on 
fire.  They  commonly  build  it  of  bricks.  Some- 
times the  farmers,  in  the  new  settlements,  cannot 
get  bricks  very  conveniently,  and  so  they  build 
tfteir  chimneys  of  great  stones ;  but  this  makes  a 
very  rough-looking  fireplace.  They  make  the 
hearth  of  great,  flat  stones,  too." 

"  O,  I  should  like  to  see  one,"  said  Anna. 

"I  have  seen  them,"  said  her  father.  "Sav- 
ages have  no  chimneys." 

M  What  are  savages  ?  "  said  George. 

u  They  are  wild  men,  that  live,  in  some  parts 
of  the  world,  in  the  woods,  in  little  huts,  which 
tUey  make  of  branches  of  trees  or  of  bark.  They 
build  their  fires  in  the  middle  of  the  hut,  and  let 
the  smoke  go  out  of  a  hole  in  the  rOof  overhead. 
There  must  always  be  some  passage ;  for  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  having  a  fire  without  its  pro- 
ducing smoke  and  gases,  which  it  would  be  bad 
to  breathe." 

"Does  a  lamp  make  gases,"  asked  George, 
"  when  it  is  burning  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  father  ;  "  but  a  lamp  is  such 
a  small  fire,  that  the  gases  float  away,  and  mingle 
with  the  air  of  the  room." 

"  O  father,"  said  Anna,  "  is  a  lamp  a  fire  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  her  father,  "  it  is  a  little  fire  of  oiL" 

"  1  never  knew  that,"  said  George. 


PLAYING    COLLEGE.  171 

"  You  never  heard  it  called  a  fire,  perhaps,  but 
you  knew  that  it  was  of  the  same  nature.  But 
now  my  lecture  is  over,  and  I  must  ask  the  class 
some  questions." 

Their  father  was  then  going  to  ask  the  children 
some  questions  ;  but,  just  as  he  was  going  to  begin,' 
the  tea  came  in,  and  the  bell  rang,  and  so  they 
all  gave  up  playing  college,  and  went  and  took 
their  seats  at  table. 

George  and  Anna,  who  had  been  quite  inter- 
ested in  their  lecture,  observed  at  once  that  the 
tea-pot  was  smoking,  and  they  said  there  ought  to 
be  a  chimney  for  that  smoke  to  go  up  in. 

#  O,  that  is  not  smoke,"  said  their  father  ;  "  that 
is  something  very  different." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Anna. 

"  It  is  vapor.  Vapor  is  very  different  from 
smoke,"  said  her  father. 

"  How  is  it  different  ?  " 

"  Why,  vapor  is  made  up  of  very  fine  particles 
of  water,  and  it  does  not  strangle  us  to  breathe 
them.  But  smoke  is  made  up  of  fine  particles  of 
coal,  or  something  like  coal.  If  you  hold  the  blade 
of  a  knife  in  the  vapor  from  the  tea-pot,  you  will 
find  that  a  spot  upon  it  will  become  covered  with 
water;  but  things  held  long  in  the  smoke,  like 
the  hooks  and  the  crane  over  the  kitchen  fire,  be- 
come black  and  sooty.  Soot  is  formed  of  particles 
of  smoke  collected  upon  the  iron,  or  upon  the 
back  of  the  chimney.  So  that  there  is  a  very 
great  difference  between  smoke  and  vapor,  though 
they  look  somewhat  alike.  There  is  an  obvious 
difference,  too,  even  in  the  appearance,  if  we  no- 


172  lucy's  stories. 

tice  carefully.  Vapor  is  grayish  white.  Smoke 
is  blue.  Vapor,  after  it  rises  a  little  way,  melts 
away,  and  disappears  entirely  ;  but  smoke  remains. 
If  it  gets  into  a  room,  it  spreads  all  over  it,  and 
remains  in  the  air  until  it  gradually  goes  off  out 
'the  doors  or  windows,  or  up  the  chimney." 

After  tea,  Anna  and  George  begged  their  moth- 
er  to  put  the  tea-pot  down  upon  the  floor  a  min- 
ute or  two,  and  let  them  hold  their  heads  over 
itBind  see  if  they  could  breathe  the  vapor.  Their 
father  told  them  they  must  not  hold  their  heads 
near,  for  it  might  be  hot  enough  to  scald  them. 
He  was,  in  fact,  rather  unwilling  to  let  then?  try 
that  experiment  at  all,  for  fear  of  some  dagtffr. 
At  length,  however,  he  concluded  to  let  them  try 
cautiously,  taking  care  that  they  did  not  put  their 
heads  very  near.  They  found  that  the  vapor  did 
not  strangle  them  at  all,  nor  make  their  eyes 
tingle,  like  smoke.  So  they  were  satisfied  that 
it  was  a  very  different  thing ;  though  their  fa- 
ther told  them  that  vapor  was  often  mingled  with 
smoke,  from  the  fire,  and  came-  out  with  it,  at  the 
top  of  the  chimney. 


CHAPTER     XV. 
THE   STRANGERS    STORY. 

One  dny,  when  Lucy  was  quite  a  little  girl, 
she  travelled  with  her  father  in  the  steamboat. 
It  was  almost  evening  when  they  went  on  board 


THE     STRANGER'S     STORY.  173 

the  steamboat,  and  they  sailed  along  a  narrow 
channel  of  water,  looking  at  the  beautiful  shores. 
The  sun  was  just  setting ;  and  its  bright  rays 
gilded  the  trees  and  glittered  upon  the  windows. 
At  first,  Lucy  thought  that  the  houses  were  on 
fire ;  but  her  mother  told  her  it  was  only  the 
reflection  of  the  sun. 

At  length  the  sun  went  down,  and  left  the 
western  sky  full  of  brilliant  clouds.  Lucy  looked 
at  them,  and  played  that  they  were  cities  on  fire, 
and  slowly  burning.  She  saw  steeples  and 
towejjs,  red  with  flames,  and  giants'  heads  look- 
ing over  the  battlements.  In  another  part  of 
the^gky,  at  a  little  distance,  there  were  lions, 
and  tigers,  and  elephants,  of  fire.  Lucy  watched 
them  a  long  time.  She  listened,  trying  to  hear 
the  flames  of  the  burning  cities  crackle,  or  the 
lions  roar.  But  they  were  all  still.  She  heard 
nothing  but  the  thundering  of  the  engine,  and  the 
dashing  of  the  boat  through  the  water. 

At  length  the  brightness  of  the  sky  gradually 
faded  away.  The  steamboat  swept  swiftly  around 
a  point  of  land  with  a  tall,  white  lighthouse  upon 
it.  By  doing  this,  the  boat  changed  its  course 
somewhat,  and  a  great  stream  of  sparks  from  the 
chimney  of  the  engine  came  pouring  over  to  the 
part  of  the  sky  where  Lucy  was  looking.  She 
thought  the  sparks  were  more  beautiful  than  the 
clouds.  They  seemed  to  Lucy  to  be  as  far  off 
as  the  stars,  and  they  were  far  more  numerous 
and  brilliant. 

After  a  time,  the  evening  air  began  to  grow  so- 
15* 


174  lucy's  stories. 

cool  that  Lucy's  mother  said  that  they  must  move 
back  into  a  more  sheltered  place.  So  they  took 
their  seats,  and  put  them  in  a  sheltered  corner, 
near  some  trunks,  which  were  piled  up  pretty 
high.  There  was  a  gentleman  sitting  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  pile  of  trunks.  Lucy  could  just 
see  his  head  over  the  tops  of  them. 

After  a  short  time,  the  gentleman  spoke  to  Lucy, 

?d  said, 
"  My  little  girl,  won't  you  come  and  sit  with  me  ?  " 

Lucy  did  not  answer.  She  hung  her  head,  and 
looked  very  foolish. 

This  was  not  right.  If  Lucy  thought  it  was 
best  not  to  go  and  see  the  gentleman  without  her 
mother's  leave,  she  ought  to  have  looked  up  to 
him  pleasantly,  and  said,  "  No,  I  thank  you, 
sir."  Instead  of  that,  she  only  hung  her  head, 
and  looked  as  if  she  was  afraid. 

Presently  the  gentleman  invited  her  again,  and 
her  mother  said,  "  Should  not  you  like  to  go  and 
see  the  gentleman,  Lucy  ?     You  may  go." 

But  still  Lucy  did  not  answer.  She  put  her 
finger  in  her  mouth,  and  moved  about  upon  her 
seat  restlessly,  without  saying  a  word. 

But  the  gentleman  wanted  her  to  come  and 
see  him  very  much.  He  was  alone,  and  had  no- 
body to  talk  with,  and  so  he  thought  he  should 
like  to  have  Lucy  come  and  sit  in  his  lap,  and  let 
him  tell  her  a  story.     But  Lucy  would  not  come. 

Lucy  was  afraid  of  him.  She  did  not  really 
suppose  that  he  would  hurt  her,  but  she  was 
afraid  of  him  because  he  was  a  stranger.  This 
being  excessively  afraid  of  strangers,  which  makes 


children  appear  so  silly,  is  called  bashfulness 
Lucy  was  bashful. 

Then  the  gentleman  thought  to  himself, 

"  I  will  contrive  a  plan  to  get  her  to  corm 
to  me." 

Then  he  said  aloud  to  Lucy.  "  If  you  will 
come  here  and  sit  in  my  lap,  I  will  tell  you  a  story." 

But  Lucy  did  not  move  or  answer. 

"  Should  you  like  to  have  me  tell  you  a  story 
while  you  stay  where  you  are  ? "  said  the  gen- 
tleman. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Lucy. 

"  But  the  engine  makes  such  a  noise  that  I 
cannot  talk  very  well  over  the  tops  of  the  trunks," 
said*  the  gentleman.  "I  shall  soon  get  tired. 
But  if  you  will  come  and  sit  with  me,  I  can  tell 
you  the  story  right  in  your  ear.  That  will  be 
easy,  and  so  I  can  make  the  story  a  great  deal 
longer  ;  and  then,  besides,  you  can  hear  better." 

Lucy  did  not  answer. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  gentleman ;  "if  you 
prefer  to  stay  where  you  are,  I  will  do  as  well 
as  I  can.  I  will  begin  the  story,  and  go  on  until 
I  am  tired." 

Now,  the  gentleman's  plan  was  this.  He  was 
going  to  begin  a  story  to  Lucy,  telling  it  to  her 
over  the  trunks,  and  go  on  until  he  came  to  some 
interesting  part,  and  then  he  was  going  to  stop, 
and  say  that  he  could  not  tell  any  more  over  the 
trunks ;  but  that,  if  she  would  come  and  sit  with 
him,  he  would  finish  it.  He  expected  that  by 
this  time  Lucy  would  have  become  a  little  ac- 
quainted, with  him,  so  that  she  would  not  be  s<> 


176  LUCY'S    STORIES. 

afraid,  —  and  also  that  she  would  become  inter- 
ested in  what  he  was  telling  her,  and  want  to 
hear  the  rest  of  it.  This  was  a  very  ingenious 
plan,  and  you  shall  hear  how  it  succeeded. 

THE  STRANGER'S  STORY. 

The  gentleman  began  his  story  in  the  follow- 
ing words :  — 

"  The  story  is  about  a  girl  named  Agatha. 
One  day,  after  dinner,  she  said, 

"'Mother?' 

"  And  her  mother  said, 

"'What,  Agatha?' 

Here  Lucy  began  to  turn  round  in  her  seat  to 
look  towards  the  gentleman  who  was  telling  the 
story,  so  that  she  could  hear  better  what  Agatha 
was  going  to  say.  She  was  curious  to  know 
what  she  was  going  to  say. 

The  gentleman  continued  as  follows  :  — 

"  '  I  wish,  mother,  you  would  let  me  go  out  and 
take  a  walk,  this  afternoon,  down  to  the  bird's 
nest.  I  want  to  see  if  the  little  birds  are  big 
enough  to  fly.' 

" '  No,  Agatha,  I  cannot  let  you  go  this  after- 
noon ;  you  must  stay  and  help  me  iron  the 
clothes.' 

"  '  Well,  mother,'  said  Agatha,  <  I  will.' 

"  She  did  not  look  sullen  and  ill-humored,  and 
begin  to  complain  or  murmur  because  she  could 
not  go ;  but  she  said,  cheerfully  and  pleasantly, 
'Well,  mother,  I  will.' 

"  She   went  at  once  and  got  some   wood   tc 


STORY.  177 

make  a  good  fire ;  then  she  put  the  flatirons  down 
before  it,  and  she  worked  industriously  all  the 
afternoon  until  five  o'clock.  By  that  time  the 
clothes  were  all  ironed  and  put  away,  and  tta 
table  set  back  in  its  place. 

"  Then  Agatha  asked  her  mother  if  she  might 
sweep  up  the  hearth  ;  and  her  mother  said,  '  Yes.' 

"  So  Agatha  took  the  brush,  and  swept  the 
hearth,  and  put  the  chairs  back,  and  made  the 
room  look  very  neat  and  pleasant. 

"  Then  her  mother  said, 

"  { Now,  Agatha,  you  have  been  a  very  good 
girl,  and  have  helped  me  a  great  deal  this  after- 
noon ;  and,  if  you  would  like  it,  you  may  go  and 
get  your  cousin  George,  and  have  a  gypsy  supper.' 

"  s  Well ! '  said  Agatha,  — '  and  may  I  ask  Lou- 
isa to  come  too  ? ' 

"  e  Yes,'  said  her  mother. 

"  So  Agatha  got  her  bonnet,  and  went  skipping 
away,  saying, '  I  am  going  to  have  a  gypsy  supper, 
—  a  gypsy  supper.'  " 

Here  Lucy  looked  up,  and  said,  with  a  timid 
voice,  "  I  don't  know  what  a  gypsy  supper  is." 

"  Don't  you  ? "  said  the  stranger.  "  Did  you 
never  hear  of  a  gypsy  supper  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Lucy. 

"  Well,"  said  the  stranger,  "  you  will  hear  as  I 
go  on  with  the  story.  Agatha  went  to  the  next 
house,  where  her  cousin  George  lived,  and  then 
to  the  house  beyond,  where  Louisa  lived;  and 
she  invited  them  to  come  and  have  a  gypsy  sup- 
per with  her ;  and  they  both  came. 


178  LUCY1S    STORIES. 

"  George  brought  bis  little  trucks,  so  as  to  haul 
the  things  for  the  gypsy  supper.  When  they  got 
to  the  house,  Agatha's  mother  had  got  every  thing 
ready  for  them  upon  the  kitchen  table ;  and  there 
was  a  tin  pail  with  a  cover  to  put  the  various  articles 
into.  George  left  his  trucks  at  the  door,  and  all 
the  children  came  in,  and  stood  around  the  table, 
and  looked  on,  while  Agatha  began  to  put  the 
things  into  the  tin  pail. 

"  First  there  were  six  apples,  —  two  for  each 
of  them.  You  see  there  were  three  children  ;  and 
two  apiece  for  three  makes  six.  Then  there  was 
a  beautiful  little " 

Here  the  gentleman  stopped  telling  his  stoiy, 
and  said, 

"But  I  believe  I  cannot  tell  you  any  more 
now.  It  is  hard  for  me  to  talk  to  you  so  far,  — 
the  engine  makes  such  a  noise.  1  begin  to  be 
pretty  tired.  If  you  were  here  sitting  up  in  my 
lap,  I  could  finish  it ;  but  I  suppose  you  don't 
care  enough  about  hearing  the  rest  of  it  to  come 
and  sit  with  me." 

"Yes,  sir/'  said  Lucy,  "I'll  come." 

So  saying,  Lucy  jumped  down  from  her  seat, 
and  ran  round  the  trunks  to  the  place  where  the 
gentleman  was  sitting.  He  took  her  up  into  his 
lap,  and  proceeded  at  once  as  follows :  — 

"  There  was  a  beautiful  little  apple-pie  on  the 
table,  just  big  enough  to  go  easily  into  the  bottom 
of  the  tin  pail.  Then  there  were  several  slices 
of  bread  and  butter,  and  a  small  tin  mug  for  them 
to  drink  water  with  from  the  spring." 


THE    STRANGER'S    STORY.  179 

'<  What  spring  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  Why,  a  spring  down  in  the  woods,  where  they 
were  going  to  have  their  gypsy  supper." 

"  Were  they  going  down  into  the  woods  ? " 
said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  you  will  hear. 
They  put  all  the  things  carefully  into  the  pail, 
and  then  they  put  the  pail  upon  the  trucks,  and 
George  drew  it  along.  The  two  girls  walked 
.behind.  They  went  down  through  the  yard,  and 
out  at  a  gate.  Agatha  held  the  gate  open,  while 
George  drew  the  trucks  through.  Here  they 
found  a  path  leading  down  into  the  woods.  They 
went  on  till  they  came  into  a  valley,  where  there 
was  a  spring  of  beautiful  cool  water,  and  some 
rocks  around  it  to  sit  upon. 

"  The  first  thing  they  did  was  to  build  a 
little  fire.  George  and  Louisa  looked  around  for 
dry  sticks,  while  Agatha  lighted  a  match  and 
kindled  them.  Pretty  soon,  they  had  a  very  good 
fire,  and  they  put  the  apples  down  before  it  to 
roast,  on  a  flat  stone.  They  took  out  the  bread 
and  butter,  and  began  to  eat  it  while  the  apples 
were  roasting.  Then  they  cut  the  pie,  and  each 
took  a  slice ;  and  when  they  were  thirsty,  they 
drank  water  from  the  spring  by  means  of  the 
little  dipper.  And  all  the  time  they  were  talking 
together  very  happily,  —  while  the  smoke  of  the 
fire  curled  up  among  the  tops  of  the  trees." 

Here  the  gentleman  stopped. 

" Is  that  all?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  that  is  about  all  * 


ISO  lucy's   stories. 

"  Why,  —  didn't  they  go  home  again  ?  "  asked 
Lucy. 

"O  yes,  after  they  had  finished  their  gypsy 
supper,  they  all  went  home." 

"  Is  that  a  gypsy  supper  ? "  said  Lucy,  after  a 
short  pause. 

"Yes,"  said  the  gentleman.  "Gypsies  are 
people  that  live  chiefly  out  of  doors.  They  have 
no  houses  of  their  own  ;  and  so,  whenever  children 
have  a  supper,  by  themselves,  in  the  woods,  or  in 
the  fields,  they  call  it  a  gypsy  supper" 

Here  Lucy,  observing  that  the  gentleman  had 
no  more  to  tell,  began  to  slide  down  out  of  his 
lap,  to  go  back  to  her  seat.  He  made  no  resist- 
ance, and  so  Lucy  left  him  alone.  Presently  the 
gentleman  arose  from  his  seat,  and  walked  away. 
Her  mother  said  to  her, 

tc  Are  you  glad  or  sorry  that  you  went  to  see 
the  gentleman  ? " 

"  Glad,"  said  Lucy. 

"  You  were  afraid  to  go,  at  first." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  know  I  was." 

"  It  is  very  foolish,"  said  her  mother,  "  for  chil- 
dren to  be  afraid  of  ladies  or  gentlemen  just  be- 
cause they  are  strangers." 

Lucy  thought  that  this  was  correct,  and  she 
resolved  that  the  next  time  a  gentleman  spoke  to 
her  under  such  circumstances,  she  would  go  to 
him,  and  hear  what  he  had  to  say ;  and  a  short 
time  afterwards,  when  she  met  this  gentleman 
walking  upon  the  deck  of  the  steamboat,  she 
thanked   him   for  telling   her  the   story. 


